#enjoy. my longest ever single chapter fic.

[longeyelashedtragedy]

Digestif [frank lampard/mason mount, rated E]

Frank has no shame about how much he loves every part of Mason.  How he wants to have him, would eat him, devour him if he could.  

All of the other footballers Mason's friends with are with their girlfriends from school or trying to get with Instagram models who are definitely hot but all look and act the same. They have no idea what life could be.

(content warning: big age gap: gen x/gen z pairing)

[serenescribe]

the prince's physician Twisted Wonderland | 3.7k Summary: Malleus is the prince’s physician. He reflects on everything his role entails. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52875436 Collaboration with @ohsleepie | Potential spoilers for elements of Chapter 7

Hello everyone! This fic is directly inspired by @ohsleepie's wonderful "The Prince and his Physician" AU, and wound up being an impromptu collaboration featuring absolutely stunning and incredible art drawn by Sleepie himself! Please check him out and follow him!

I'm so happy to share this, and I hope that you all enjoy it!

The days between the prince’s passing and his inevitable reincarnation always feel the longest to Malleus.

Time, as it is, is a slow-paced thing; such is life for him as the last of his kind, a single year feeling far more miniscule for him than it does for a human. Malleus loses track of the days easily, slips up on his months and years. He is only aware of the passage of time through distant observations of festivities — celebrations to herald in a new year, for one, or the prince’s birthday, for another.

But rather than track the time through each changing year, Malleus tracks them in cycles of Silver’s life and death.

With each new reincarnation, each new cycle brought anew, something imperceptible shifts in the air. A rebirth means many things — to the kingdom’s populace, it is yet another year of a curse yet unbroken; to Malleus, it is a tangible, physical mark of his failures. But failures aside, there is something so jarring, so off-putting, about seeing the nursemaids and servants whisk a cradle through the halls of the castle, a cradle Malleus knows the contents of.

It is Silver, always Silver, a slumbering baby identical to the dozens that came before him — wispy locks of silver hair that plaster against his forehead, pudgy hands and chubby cheeks, and when he opens his eyes, those same, breathtaking hues of the brightest auroras.

Malleus always stops and stares whenever these moments occur. For an instant, his breath is stolen right from his throat by some unseen thief; his mind dredges up memories of when he, himself, was young, stirring to life old cycles when he was but a child himself, unable to comprehend Silver’s passing and subsequent return. It had taken him quite some time to grasp all of it — but then again, could one truly blame Malleus when his guardian figure, the kindly young prince his age who took him in and treated him well, had died in bed, only to reappear as a wee babe?

But when Silver returns, Malleus feels as though he can breathe again, an invisible knot in his throat loosened.

Because when Silver is gone, Malleus feels… useless, for lack of a better word. His own memories of his childhood are haphazard and spotty, mainly made up of foggy recollections of surviving in the harsh brambles of fae forests. For many, many years, he has found a purpose, was given one through being brought to this human kingdom: break our prince’s curse, and save him from Death’s unyielding grip.

There are few here who deign to interact with him beyond courteous pleasantries. They turn their noses up at him, eyes narrowing, lips twisting; it is fae, they whisper to each other, voices dripping with venom. If not for its magic, its prowess, surely we would have left it to die.

Silver is kind to him, has always been ever since he was young. So is it truly so shocking that Malleus feels so lost with him gone, and feels so relieved whenever he returns?

(And yet, intermingled with the relief, buried underneath such feelings of solace, there lurks another monster. A sense of guilt which festers, slowly growing over time.

An old memory rises whenever Malleus reflects on it for too long, of Silver’s voice:

“I wish for you to break my curse, Malleus. But I do not want to be immortal. My people have suffered for far too long, unable to grow and prosper due to my unending fate.”

He remembers a soft, sad smile.

“To relieve them of that burden, to allow them to grow with my final passing… that is what I wish for, above all else.”)

“How are you feeling today, your majesty?”

It is always odd, with each new cycle. To reacquaint himself with this new Silver — so much like the one before, in his appearance and demeanour, yet lacking the full memories of his past. Malleus knows Silver recalls just enough, especially when aided with the meticulous journals his previous incarnations have kept, but it is jarring, all the same, to reintroduce himself to someone he has known for many, many decades.

Silver blinks at him from the bed, the four-poster frame draped with too many silks and gauzes, too big for a boy of his size. His eyes are tinged with crusts of sleep, bags forming under them despite the medicines and foods they all have him eat, and yet there is such a strange tranquillity resting in his expression whenever Malleus sees him. “I’m quite alright, Malleus,” he responds, voice scarcely a whisper, soft and sweet. “And you don’t need to call me such formalities. We’ve been over this many times.”

Malleus exhales, the breath slipping through his nose.

No matter how many times Silver tells him as such — and it has been plentiful, through Silvers young and old, of different years, different decades, different centuries — Malleus still abides by such titles, at least when he first speaks to him. It gets easier as the years pass, as he acquaints himself a bit closer, as Silver inches closer to another inevitable death, but all the same—

“You are to be his physician,” a voice instructs him, the memory looming to life once more, “and you do not stand on equal ground with him. As such, you are to abide by our formalities: he is to be referred to as ‘your majesty,’ and nothing else.”

“Prince Silver,” Malleus says instead, the title a little clunky on his tongue. Silver raises an eyebrow at him, but does not push. He merely sits in place as Malleus walks over, his heels clicking against the floor, tail lashing behind the fabrics of his half-skirt. “Allow me to check you over today, if you will.”

“At this point, you need not even ask.”

The days go by the same way they always do: Malleus inspects Silver over carefully, running careful hands over every inch of his body before he adjusts his magic, and delves deeper into the beyond. His instincts are carefully attuned for any little change, anything he has never seen or felt before — any anomaly at all could give a new direction for him to research in, and a new possibility of a means to break the curse.

(He refuses to let himself think too hard about what breaking the curse truly entails. Malleus has ruminated over it over the course of many, many cycles, laying wide awake in bed, staring up at elegantly painted murals on the ceiling in the dark of night. It is always the same thing — should he abide by the kingdom’s wishes, or by his prince’s?

In the end, regardless of which route he chooses, Malleus shall break the curse. But it is the eternal dilemma presented to him that tangles his soul day after day — what would truly be better, to let Silver live past the ages of youth and mature into an all-powerful, immortal king? Or to let him die in peace, freeing his people from the burdens of a monarchy, their hopes and dreams all inextricably tied to their young and dying prince?

And, to another extent, the other part of the question Malleus thinks about, what does he want himself?

There is a part of him that feels such vibrant joy and pride at the thought of Silver thriving — to live as long as Malleus shall, if not even longer; to rule with his steadfastness and kindness, resolute as he heralds a new, immortal age of glory. Malleus knows little about the history of his own kind, but what tiny bits he can dredge up have taught him of a group of creatures with such power and perfection, such beauty and bravery. They thrived in the night, ruled from the shadows, creatures of such majestic, nigh-immortal magic with an arrogance that led to their own downfall.

As a fae himself, Malleus wonders if it is only natural for him to desire such things for Silver. To watch him grow into the ages he has never been able to reach before, to witness him at his fullest might and glory.

And yet, the mere thought of the stabbing betrayal in those auroral eyes, the sadness that may overcome those soft features, is enough to give him pause each and every time.)

He was young when they found him skulking about the brambles.

For as long as Malleus can remember, he has always been alone. Though he’s certain he remembers some sensations of warmth from before he came into being, of being cradled close in a loving embrace, all he remembers, through to his earliest memories, is of being alone.

And for such a lonely fae child, wandering about an overgrown, abandoned valley, what else was there for him to do but survive? To pounce about and gulp down whatever meals he could find, to curl up in the nooks of trees and little rock caverns to try and keep warm… and to hide in the brambles, slitted eyes peering at civilisation from afar.

He’d watched the daily lives of the human kingdom after finding out about their existence, when he was old enough to try and mimic a form similar to their own. Still, Malleus had been too scared to venture too close, some innate part of him screaming at him to stay away, and so he had simply observed from a distance… until one day, they found him.

He remembers little of that day now. It’s all a blur when he tries to recollect it — sharp grips tightening around his limbs as he kicked and thrashed, searing magic that ripped through his veins, burning those who tried to hurt him, being thrown and tossed about, immobilised by something that seared at his skin… All while screaming and yelling flooded the air, his heartbeat thumping chaotically in his ears, head spinning as his surroundings whirled about him—

And then it stopped.

And then there was Silver.

He was young then. That, Malleus recalls. He remembers everything after the pain and the panic with ease, of the way the young boy — just as young as he, with silver hair and such pretty, colourful eyes, and oh-so gentle hands — had removed the searing things that hurt him, and rubbed something that stung before it began to feel better.

“My name is Silver,” the boy told him, in a soft, kind voice that made Malleus feel… safe. “I’m sorry about the pain they caused you. I hope you’re feeling better now.”

Malleus understood him, of course, in some strange, innate way. But his tongue could not shape the same sounds that he heard, no matter how hard he tried. When he spoke, all he could manage was something that chimed and clicked, something Silver didn’t understand.

And yet, in spite of all that, Silver had such patience with him anyway. He allowed Malleus to stay by his side, to stay in his room, eating the same foods that he did — and what a treat they were, for a child who starved as long as he had! — and sleeping in his bed.

Time passed; his wounds healed. His tongue began to curl in all the right ways, taught painstakingly by Silver how to speak in his tongue in-between the periods of time where he had to disappear. Malleus relished in each and every day, the loneliness that haunted him for so long no longer looming over him like a shadow. Now, he had Silver—

Until he didn’t.

Silver hadn’t woken up one day, no matter how hard Malleus tried. Nudging him, shaking him, calling his name until his voice rose in a panic, and the door slammed open, footsteps thumping into the room. He’d been dragged away, kicking and screaming again, the same terror from years ago swelling up once more in his heart; the fire that sparked through his veins, the sheer agony and pain, the lurking realisation that he was alone again.

He remembers very little of those in-between days, the foggy haze of nothingness only pierced by a baby’s cry and the realisation that Silver had somehow returned. But it hadn’t been until years later, years of being stuck in a tiny little bedroom by himself, that Malleus could finally see him again.

Silver was younger now. Younger than Malleus himself. And finally, he explained it to him.

“I have a curse on me,” Silver told him, as simply as possible, as Malleus curled around him in his bed. “And other humans believe you can break it.”

Malleus blinked up at him, raising his head from the soft, downy cushions. “I… can?”

“You can,” Silver affirmed with a gentle smile, his voice high. He reached out, wrapping his arm around Malleus and bringing him close. “Because you’re a fae. You’re so strong. If anyone can help me, it’s you.”

The truth, of course, was far more complex than that simplistic explanation. The truth was that Silver’s curse itself was fae-inflicted and, considering the immense strength of the fair folk, only another fae’s skills would be able to eliminate the curse. But Malleus had been young, and Silver, despite his youth and the fact that he still barely recalled his own memories, was kind, trying to explain everything to Malleus as simply as possible: You are strong, and we believe in you. I believe in you.

And Malleus had accepted it, taking on his new role as the prince’s physician with a regal sort of pride.

Magic slinks through his veins as naturally as blood, the two intermingling and intertwining. It comes to him so easily, far more than even the most expert mages of the kingdom, who have spent decades of their mortal lives honing their skill to a perfect shine.

But for as naturally gifted as Malleus is, he lacks the proper training one should have. That is, not the training of human mages, for he has gone through many cycles worth of such a thing, but the training of a fae.

Fae magic is so distinctly different from that of humans, rooted in their very heart and soul, and in the power of the natural world around them. And though Malleus can adapt to his circumstances, taking what the reluctant tutors teach him and twisting it to suit his own strengths, there is only so much he can learn and do until he hits a wall, and gets stuck in one place.

If only there were other fae still alive, still out there. If only, Malleus thinks longingly, a swell of frustration burgeoning within him as he hits yet another blockade in another theory he’s been trying to test, the ink of his feathered quill dragging to a blotchy halt across the parchment as he struggles to pen what he’s been theorising into written words.

He hears the whispers of the court, day after day. Why isn’t there any progress? the humans ask, as though Malleus can flick his wrist and cure anything instantly. How many years has it been here? How much longer must we suffer? How much more must our prince wait?

And the thing is, Malleus desires nothing more than to be able to snap his fingers and dispel that wretched curse, all at once. But beyond other factors, such as Silver’s private request to him all that time ago to grant him a peaceful death and free his kingdom from the shackles of his immortality, there is the very fact that this is a fae curse, a complex, interweaving system of magic designed to loop Silver’s death, all while bringing him back every time. There is intent behind this convoluted spell, and save nothing short of somehow speaking to the caster himself, there is little Malleus can do but break it all down in reverse.

He rakes a hand through his hair, a growl spilling from his throat. The quill clatters to the table as he drags his hands down his face, biting back a haggard sigh.

The sound of knocking against wood.

“You may enter,” he calls, twisting in his chair to stare at the door.

The hinges squeak as it cracks open, revealing a guardsman who leers at him. “Your presence is requested,” they state, not bothering to hide their disdain, yet having enough basic courtesy not to let it spill into their words. “The council wishes to learn of your progress on breaking his majesty’s curse.”

Dark lips twist into an ugly sneer. The council, Malleus seethes. A group of uppity, stuck-up human nobles, who constantly die and get replaced with equally awful replacements, who keep breathing down his back about any meagre bits of progress he’s been able to make despite Silver’s attempts to get them to stop.

The downsides of Silver constantly reincarnating, needing to relearn everything all over again as he dives back through journals and jostles his own memories, is that he can’t always chase them away, telling them to leave his physician alone, and let him work. This is one of those times, it seems; Silver is too busy learning how to be a human being again, leaving Malleus stranded against a group of men who seem hellbent on making his very existence hell throughout what little bits of life they live.

But it is not as though he can deny a summons. For all his title as the prince’s physician, Malleus knows — has known for such a very long time — that his rank is meaningless without the very prince he serves.

“Tell them that I shall arrive in five minutes.” Picking up his quill, Malleus dips it back into a pot of ink, a furious frustration igniting the spark within him as he turns back to his incomplete report.

It is better than nothing, and that is worth something.

Malleus holds very little loyalty to this kingdom. What else is there for him, when he is destined to outlive everyone within it, and when they are all so bent on treating him as though he personally killed their families?

He is aware of the history between them and his own ancestors, the plentiful fae who used to share these lands until they waged war against the humans, slaughtering them in a painful, bloody battle. The humans had emerged victorious, all the fae driven out or slain, but it had come at the heavy cost of all their royals killed — except for one.

And for years, they had watched their prince grow with pride, until he had died before his coronation. And then it had happened again, and again, and again — they would find him as a baby nestled within a clearing in the nearby woods, identical in each and every iteration, and they would watch as he always died before arriving at his years of maturity, always while he was far too young.

A fae curse, they realised, far too late. How foolish they had been, to dismiss the magic struck against their prince! It is a fate worse than death, they lamented, their spirits growing weary with each new cycle. What shall we do?

Malleus is their answer to their conundrum, a solution to a problem his ancestors made. And yet, for all the supposed salvation he represents and is supposed to bring, he knows what they think of him. And though he understands it, understands the reservations and hatred for everything he represents, he also cannot help but resent them for it.

Why is he treated like he is lesser, when he is trying to help them?

His loyalty lies with their prince, with Silver, for the kindness Malleus has been shown over and over, throughout countless identical reincarnations, countless ends and beginnings. It is the reason why he stays, why he endures it all, why he works painstakingly at dissecting a curse only he stands a chance of understanding, in hopes of shattering this cruel fate once and for all.

He carries the hopes and dreams of the kingdom on his shoulders — a cruel irony, Malleus knows, considering what most of the populace think of him. He is their only hope, in the end.

But the thing is — and this, Malleus has come to realise over time:

It is easy for the humans to root for their prince. It is easy for them to hope, to pray, to plead with whatever higher forces exist out there for the fae physician to break his curse, bringing them all into a golden age of their royal’s immortality. It is easy because they are human; for many of them, they will not live long enough to witness more than perhaps four or five of their prince’s life cycles, forcing them to tell their descendents of their desires to carry on the flames of their hopes.

When one does not live long enough for their awe and admiration, their all-consuming anticipation, to melt away into something far more pessimistic, it is easy to stand strong and proclaim, “I wish for my prince to live forever; I wish for him to lead us into a new age.”

But for Malleus? For the only fae in a kingdom of mortals, destined to outlive each and every one of them by proxy of his heritage alone?

He has lost count of just how many cycles he has witnessed, from the tender years of childhood into the grown fae he is today. He has lost track of how many times he has met Silver for the first time, the servants and guards and nursemaids who care for him and guard him all switching out cycle after cycle, as more of them die and more of them are replaced.

The humans see not what Malleus witnesses over time: the piles of journals that stack up higher and higher; the heavy bags that marr the underside of those striking auroral eyes; the pure exhaustion that sinks into their prince’s every movement and word, the way he gazes upon his kingdom from towering windows.

In the end, this miserable curse can only end one way: Silver must die.

(The question still remains, pressing down on Malleus’ shoulders, an invisible burden weighing him down with each soft smile and greeting he receives.

Shall Silver live forever? Or only once more?)

[unicorncornflakes]

Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 14

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at him. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags:  Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes  manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know):  @thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter@chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasy @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond @imaloserbby @youngcomputerpuppy @aemondsfavouritebastard @cloudroomblog @queenofshinigamis @bluevxnus @wooya1224 @serving-targaryen-realness @darkenchantress @padfooteyes @mariannnavao @moonlightfoxx @jennifer0305 @ammo23 @iloveallmyboys @tempt-ress @bellameshipper @okfashionista @shelbyteller @dahlias-and-marigolds @the-knights-of-ne @bellaisasleep

Author´s note:  Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Acknowledgment: To @ammo23 for the brilliant corrections and the wonderull work as beta reader, for all the patience and the love that always shows for my writing. Thank you so much for all the time that you spend with this. Thank you so much. i really apreciate it :D

Word Count: 5.4K

Alys walked up and down in the bedroom of her small apartment. She felt like her world was collapsing. Suffocating pressure pounded in her chest, and her throat closed.

The anguish and suffocation she felt made her believe she would never breathe again. What was going on with her? She had never felt like this. Not even when Daemon left her for Rhaenyra had she felt this way. Something was crushed against her chest, almost like a ball, that prevented her from swallowing or taking breaths.

This had only happened to her when she got home, that same night that Aemond had denied her his place in the company. She was the one who, after all, had been at the top of Targaryen Industries the longest. She had been the secretary to the CEO of the company. Always in the background,discreet, she had come to believe that it was she, and no one else, who had run the company from the shadows.

After all, it was she who had dethroned Daemon to put Aemond in his place, who had convinced investors of the worth of this young boy who might be missing an eye but had plenty of knowledge. She was Targaryen Industries, her and nothing but her. She was the president in the shadows. She was the one who should be president, even if she wasn't a Targaryen. After the sentimental fiasco with Daemon, she had learned that the only thing worthwhile in life was power and ambition. Which is why she had liked Aemond so much at first, although she had tired of him. She always got tired of everything quickly but not her job. Her job was her life.

Alys remembered screaming. Very loud and strong. Almost until her voice ran out.  She would also remember how tears welled up in her eyes and burned as they rolled down her cheeks, although she would never confess this. She collapsed on his bed. Tired. Unhappy. Sad. Disappointed. She remembered all the shags she had had with Aemond in that bed, even letting him do whatever he wanted with her body. Her anger flamed up in the pit of her stomach even more, She had always protected him so that Aemond seemed almost like an immaculate presence, a perfect presence that nothing seemed to touch.

Aemond had never starred on a single cover from the press, thanks to her protection, her advice and her good work. So much sacrifice, so much effort. All that had been for nothing.  She was the one who had to go to Sunspear. She was the visible face of Targaryen Industries. It was she who had attended that congress so many times and who had closed so many deals there, mainly through her body, but that didn't take away from her cunning to have achieved it. Aemond wanted to displaced her. All because you were there.

First, it had been Rhaenyra who had displaced her from her place. She had displaced her from her place in Daemon's heart. If ever she had a place in that heart. She smiled bitterly. Then you arrived. You had displaced her from her place in the company. She was not going to go to Sunspear. She had not attended the gala. Aemond had stopped visiting her bed and letting off steam with her. He no longer trusted what had been his right hand until you had entered Aemond's brain like an infection. That was how you felt at the time to Alys, like an infection. The Targaryen’s did not seem to be able to get out of their heads, the very thing that made them different from the rest; their obsession with falling in love with their own blood.

Alys's life was beginning to change because of you, solely and exclusively because of you. The company was everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. She must save the company like she had when Daemon lost his mind over Rhaenyra. Alys had saved Targaryen Industries from taking a nosedive under the command of Daemon Targaryen. And she was more than sure that she was going to save it again before it was too late.

Alys nervously searched for her phone in her bag. She had already ratted out the CEO of Targaryen Industries once. Nothing was stopping her from doing it a second time, although this time, she had no backup candidate. She looked for Daemon's cell phone in the phone book. She shouldn't have changed it. She would hit Aemond where it hurts the most, so she would teach him to be careful. She was the true thinking head of Targaryen Industries.

Right at that moment, something woke Alys from her own madness. On the television, with the sound completely turned off and as the only source of light in that room, Alys, who had always thought simply of herself, felt compassion.

She saw a single image of you. Theimage was of the catastrophic gala where you almost ran while trying to keep up with Aemond, who had taken your hand and almost dragged you out of the building. Inside, Alys knew that Aegon had almost tried to kill Cregan to protect you. How blind was your father!

That was all that the woman thought when she saw you being dragged out of the building by Aemond. Surrounded by photographers and cameras trying to capture any crumb of your family's misery. Because, at the end of the day, that was the image they conveyed outside of the business world. Misery. Ever since the Daemon and Rhaenyra scandal, they were a family that hadn't gotten back on its feet. The few appearances they made in public were proof of this. Gone were the glory days of the Targaryens. Those died with Rhaenyra...

Aemond was dragging you, as he was mad while trying to protect you from everything, but the only thing you had to protect yourself from was him. Alys realized at that moment that you weren't to blame. Not even Aemond. You were just a girl who was taking her first steps in the world as a woman, and you had enough problems for being born in the place where you were born. You had never chosen a single one of your problems. Unlike Rhaenyra, you were not a Targaryen, no matter how much Aemond wanted to name you as such with that necklace that now hung around your neck. You were just another girl in a game that didn't belong to you. An innocent girl in a world of people far more powerful than you, just as Alys had been. It was reflected in you. Those eyes that reflected a brutal fear of what was happening.

Alys put her phone down on the table. She wouldn't be the one to give you away. She never would because, at that moment, she came to the great revelation of her life. You were not to blame for what was happening to her. Neither had Rhaenyra, though much of her rage had been directed at her. Men were the real culprits of the eternal enmity between women. She would never rise up against a woman again. She wouldn't be the one to tear you apart. She… she wanted to help you. It was no longer a question of protecting Aemond. It was a question of protecting you, of protecting that girl where that woman saw herself reflected. Alys needed redemption, not revenge.

"We'll make love on that balcony," Aemond whispered in your ear as he passed you the tablet which Alys had sent over the reservation and the photos of the hotel she had selected in Sunspear for both of you.

You gave a shy smile as you picked up the device. In front of the whole family, your uncle sat next to you in the garden and put his arm just behind you. In a protective gesture, he caressed your bare shoulder and played with the nape of your neck and the knot of the bikini you were wearing that morning. It was his favourite. It is black and elegant. He had dreamt of taking it off you. He would take it off your body in the jacuzzi that that room had. You would drink champagne, make love, nuzzle into his chest… He had planned to make that trip memorable. It would be the last one you would share after you went to study, far from him. He hated that feeling, even though he knew it was the best for you. For both of you.

The rest of the family was oblivious to all the attention Aemond was paying you or wanted to be oblivious. Your grandmother was talking to Jace about something minor while holding one of her grandchildren. Your father was holding another of the twins while they were swimming in the pool. Helaena came back from the kitchen with something to drink, and although you didn't see it, she looked at you disapprovingly. Your uncle kept playing with your hair, sitting together in a large hammock apart from the others. He whispered to you complicity while your eyes shone while you looked at him. That scene of a happy family was marred by all the attention that the one-eyed dragon gave you, and the others preferred to remain blind.

Just then, Lya and Daeron finally made an appearance at that family meal. The youngest of your uncles appeared with his sunglasses, while his girlfriend appeared in a discreet beach dress. From the face with which you saw your uncle appear, you knew that he came more for a business lunch than with his family.

He looked at your father, oblivious to everything and clicked his tongue. But his face was even harder to read when he looked at you and Aemond together. Lya ignored him. After the argument they had had a couple of days ago, the young Stark ignored him most of the time. It wasn't something that bothered him. He really liked feeling that his relationship with her was coming to an end, and he couldn't feel more liberated, although he still didn't want to take the plunge. Not after what the young woman had unashamedly suggested was going on between you and Aemond. He had brought her to that meal to calm things down between them, and it seemed to work.

As she arrived, Lya just greeted everyone present happily and sat down next to Alicent. She pretended that all was well between her and Daeron, and the younger of the dragons thought that perhaps it wasn't a bad idea to ask her to marry him. It would be a way to control everything she could say about you, although it would be a very strong leash around Daeron's neck. He swallowed as he took off his glasses. What did another strap matter? The important thing was not to go through the same embarrassment again. The same misfortune never again. Daeron's mind would always be a sea of ​​indecision ever since they had been through this. He just wanted calm and normality.

Normal.

Normal wasn’t the word that came to his mind when he saw you and Aemond. Why the hell couldn't his brother suppress what he felt for you? Nothing good could come of it. Just abominations. Terrible monstrosities. He walked over to his older brother and put his hands in his pants pockets. He looked disapprovingly at your father while he continued to play with Helaena's little boy. "Aegon," greeted him.

"Look, it's Uncle Daeron with the drooping face. The only face he knows how to have lately," your father laughed as he continued playing with the boy, who patted the water, greeting his younger uncle. Your father should have had more children. At least the children brought out the best in him. Seeing that his little brother didn't smile at his little nephew, your father came out of the pool with the boy in his arms. "What the hell is wrong with you now?" Aegon asked as he carried the boy to his mother, who picked him up and gently dried him.

"We need to talk as lawyer and client," his brother whispered, grabbing his shoulder, and Aegon rolled his eyes in annoyance. At that moment, your father's gaze fell on you. Aemond gave you a knowing look, and your father's world seemed to freeze. That look was not something that was given to a niece, and you looked at himat that moment. You parted ways with your uncle almost instantly, and Aemond looked at his brother with that grimace he tried to put on almost every time he was caught red-handed, like when he'd been a teenager. With a completely stoic grimace, you dove into the water, and Aemond approached his brothers. "It would be advisable if Aemond was also in what we have to talk about."

"Yeah, sure," your father sighed as Aemond continued walking towards them. With hands in pockets and head down. Aegon thought it must be his imagination. It couldn't be that you and him… no, of course not. You had always been together. Aemond was like a father to you. Yes, that's what it was. Aegon was just imagining things from what had happened between Rhaenyra and Daemon. You were a smart girl. You always had been, and Aemond was your protector. That was all. That blind man just wanted to console himself at what was about to be a turning point in his life.

The three of them sat in the office that Aemond also kept in the house, looking at each other in the dim light that the place had always had. Aegon slumped back in his seat, bored, as Aemond and Daeron continued to talk about Cregan Stark. Aegon opened his phone and got ready to text one of his friends. That girl was your age, but he couldn't care less. It wasn't something for a serious relationship. That had died the same day your mother had decided to leave him. Aegon would never love the same again, and he didn't care. He had only decided to live in his parallel reality from which, in addition, you were about to disappear. Everything would return to normal. The terrible and disgusting normality, in which nothing was normal, and you were not.

"With everything I paid him, I don't think Cregan would dare sue Aegon," Aemond commented as he leaned back in his seat again. Daeron nodded silently. Of course, your uncle had paid him. He had paid him for his silence. All men have a price, and Cregan Stark had put it on a slip of paper that he had slipped in Aemond's direction. Cregan Sark was no better than the others. That was something Aemond had discovered at that meeting.

"Still, I'm not here for us to talk about Cregan. That is a chapter that I think we could close," Your uncle Daeron commented as he opened the work briefcase that always accompanied him. "Martel wrote to me last night," he commented as he passed a sheet to Aemond and did the same with your father, although he didn't pay attention until... "(Y/N)'s mother threatens retaliation," he commented, and your father He set his phone aside and ran a hand over his face.

"What does she want now?" Aemond commented reluctantly. "Damned bitch," he whispered under his breath, and Aegon looked at him as if he wanted to stab him. Your mother had been everything to him, and he didn't understand how his brother could continue treating her like that. After all, you had come out of her, even though Aemond tried to hide it all behind that facade about the Targaryens.

Daeron, without saying a single word, turned on the television that was there forgotten. He looked for any channel, but they all talked about the same thing. The terrible fight between Cregan and Aegon.

But, what came out were the images of Aemond dragging you by the hand to the car driven by Cole. "You have exposed your daughter to a pitiful presentation," was all Daeron said. Aemond rolled his eye in annoyance as the lawyer commented on all the legal threats your mother had sent the night before for such exposure. No one wanted to upset you, so they didn't tell you, but as Daeron went on and on about what your mother had sent through her lawyer, your father couldn't stop thinking about how close you and Aemond always were. The way he grabbed you. The way he looked at you. Anyone with eyes could see that there was something between you both that was far from a simple family relationship. Aegon began to worry.

"Tomorrow, we could go shopping and have lunch together before the trip." Aegon heard his brother's voice. It was already late at night. You two were sitting by the pool again. Illuminated by the light of the pool and a few garden lights that were still lit only by you. The atmosphere smelled of chlorine, and the calm water could be heard. You had wet hair, and you were wrapped in a towel while Aemond watched you, smoking, facing him, completely slumped in his chair, legs spread. The scene was far from the relationship that an uncle and his niece would have. Your father watched as you sat next to Aemond and smiled at him with bright eyes again.

"The truth is that I would love to spend time alone," you whispered, and he caressed your face gently, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Aemond almost had the audacity to kiss you on the lips when you heard your father clear his throat right behind you.

You jumped and saw Aegon with an almost forced smile on his face. You knew what he was thinking. Same thing half King's Landing, half Westeros was thinking. All that discretion had been marred by those images that now tormented you. However, Aemond had told you not to worry. He was going to take care of everything. Absolutely everything.

Aemond spun around to face his brother. Screwed by that intrusion, the CEO of Targaryen Industries raised one of his eyebrows questioningly, asking his brother to talk or leave you alone. He had never liked interruptions and had reached a point where he, too, believed himself untouchable.

"Could we talk, Aemond?" was all your father asked. You lay down right next to your uncle, and Aegon ended up adding "Alone." He saw the concern in your eyes. That damn worry that was etched on his face. You passed by him, but not before kissing him goodnight and he felt betrayed. Not for you. Only for Aemond. He had to have a serious talk with him... If he and you really were...

"What do you want now, Aegon?" his brother asked, offering him a cigarette. Aegon took it and sat down beside her. He wasn't used to smoking anymore, but he seemed to need it for what he was about to ask. He needed to know the truth and face it.

"Why are you taking her to the congress?" he asked bluntly as if that were a direct way of broaching the subject. No. It really wasn't. But, your father did not dare to suggest even what he himself saw. His mind would never accept it, but it was clear that he preferred to be lied to. He needed to be lied to because he would never be able to accept it.

“It's good for her. She will get an idea of ​​how we do business. I imagine that she will work in the family business one day,” Aemond commented with an impassive face, like someone talking about the weather.

"You know that she won't work in the company, right? Not if I can help it," was all your father answered, almost in a desperate voice, interrupting his brother, who looked away as if he didn't want to accept that this was what was really going to happen. You would never work at Targaryen Industries. “She's not your assistant. You have never needed an assistant in any congress.” Aegon ran a hand through his hair, almost ashamed of what he was going to say to his brother. “These conferences were just another way to fuck Alys with company money. Take her with you. I haven't seen you two together for a long time."

"Alys has better things to do than I do, and this is an opportunity for (Y/N) to see how relationships work at the company where she's going to work," he said again, tensing up. That had been a low blow on his brother's part. He had never taken Alys away just to fuck her there. He had taken her there for much more. Even if he had, his older brother was no one to hold it against him. Aemond had worked too hard for his family now for no one, much less lazy Aegon, to hold anything against him. "I want her to know the family business. Is it so terrible? I remind you that you were the one who begged me to get her working for me," he snapped at him in a bad way.

Aegon swallowed hard. Yes, it had been himself and he alone who had condemned you to the repetition of his older sister's story. However, he did not dare to verbalize it. He didn't dare because he didn't want to believe it. It was impossible. You were his daughter. How could Aemond want you?

"I… I don't want anything bad to happen to her, Aemond." he swallowed hard. He wanted to say, he wanted to speak, he wanted to scream what he was seeing. What his mind screamed was true, but his heart told him it couldn't be true.

How was Aemond going to fuck you? You were his little dragon. He had always bragged about it, how he was your favourite uncle, how you had always chosen him over everyone else in that house… over her father. Even when you were little, you had always preferred spending time with him over Aegon, or at least he felt that way.

It could be harsh, but Aegon convinced himself that he was seeing illusions where there was nothing, that he was imagining that you and his brother were together because it gave him a reason to separate you from Aemond… because he was jealous. He was jealous of the father-daughter relationship you had with Aemond. Yeah. He told himself that this was what was happening to him, and that was why he was seeing ghosts where there were none. He had never been a devoted man to your cause, and though he wished he were now, Aemond was years ahead of him. Stupid Aemond. Always better than his big brother. Always.

Aegon remained silent while Aemond continued to smoke. The cigarette was consumed without taking a single puff, he thought as it fell apart in his hands. Aegon would always be a bad father. What he imagined between you and Aemond was proof of that. And that wrong man could not feel any worse than that in his entire life.

“That is to say, you only called me to tell me conjectures. Fantastic.” Daemon had taken off in his private jet that morning, headed for King's Landing. He had not used the one paid for by Aemond. That would have been giving him too many clues. He knew that almost everyone who served in his household gave Aemond information about his steps. He lived in a glass cage, comfortable yes, but a cage at the end of the day. In this way, Daemon had chosen those he knew to be truly loyal for this journey.

Sitting on that terrace in Flea Bottom,he asked for the bill, annoyed when he verified that whoever was in front of him had only called him with a guess. He couldn't stand wasting his time, and this girl had.

"It's not just guesswork. Every King's Landing suspects it," Lya replied. She was the one who had called to tip off Daemon. Daeron, as the family attorney, had his phone number in the phone book. She had only needed a clue from the one who was still her boyfriend to get the number to unlock his phone. The rest was history.

Lya felt betrayed, and few things are more dangerous than the revenge of a scorned woman. Daeron had dared to touch her, and she wasn't going to leave it at that. All because of Aemond… and it was your fault. Lya thought that no one would ever know. No one, and besides, she would get rid of the always annoying Aemond, who had always looked down on her like some Northern filth to be thrown away after getting laid.

Annoyed, Daemon began to struggle up from his chair. One of his bodyguards ran to help him. He, sheltered under a black hat to protect himself from the sun, reluctantly refused help. Holding on with difficulty to his cane with a dragon's head carved on a silver handle, the one who had been the most feared dragon in all of Westeros, began to go to his car. The one he had rented for that trip in hope, he thought, that he might finally gouge out his hated nephew's remaining eye, but he hadn't. That northern girl had only called him to make guesses, not give him facts. He adored facts, not the imaginings of a girl who seemed more than battered by the green dragons. Green. Daemon hated that damn colour.

"Wait!" Lya yelled at him again. This girl was unbearable. That's what Daemon thought as he turned to look at her. He saw her grab her bag hastily and stand in front of him. It must not be a very smart girl, Daemon thought. Being his little brother's girlfriend, Aemond had to keep an eye on her, or he considered her puny enough not to keep an eye on her. If that was the case, it was one of the first mistakes Aemond had made. And Daemon knew he wasn't the only one, but he needed proof. "There's a conference at Sunspear or something, and Aemond will take her away."

Daemon raised an eyebrow sarcastically. "I've also taken Aemond to that congress when I was his age, and I haven't fucked him" One of his bodyguards laughed at his occurrence, but Daemon kept looking at the girl who didn't even know how to articulate her words before the Prince of Bottom Flea. "Girl, you want to play a very dangerous game…"

“I think he's leaving without Alys. The two of them go alone. I thought I heard it at lunch yesterday,” he blurted out, without thinking. Aemond had always taken Alys with him. He hadn't known how to do a single trip without her and her pussy until you showed up.

The smirk faded from Daemon's face. He knew that behind that, there must be a compelling reason. Alys had been Aemond's right-hand man ever since they had met and started this strange relationship of affection. She was his execution arm, and it was clear that if he had gotten rid of her, it was for a compelling reason, even if it was for a single and sad business trip. Daemon sat back down at the table where they'd had a few drinks, and Lya did the same. Now, he had something to start with. Lya kept talking, and Daemon sensed that she was a girl who thought she was too smart, but she wasn't. What a waste of a girl! She did not ask for anything in exchange for such information. She thought she was too smart and thought she would get away unscathed from what she was telling the one-eyed dragon's greatest enemy. She didn't know Aemond, but Daemon thought that wasn't his problem.

Daemon would spend the next week in Landing. In complete anonymity, he would wreak an even more painful revenge on Aemond, avenge his throne, his reputation, and his beloved Rhaenyra.

Aemond had been benevolent to those who had taken from him so much, who had laughed so hard at him in his youth. Now, as CEO of Targaryen Industries, no one dared to contradict him. Nobody. He had allowed Jace to marry his sister. He had kept Luke close to him, as the company's accountant, in a grand gesture of magnanimity that the stupid kid who had laughed at him had been thankful for over and over again. Joffrey was the family's personal dealer with their many nocturnal businesses, and he knew that the one-eyed dragon had a good hold on them. Especially after the embarrassment their so-called adoptive mother had put them through. Although Aemond knew they were the biological ones. He had simply been an executor of the karma she needed, and that was fine, or at least he thought that was enough for the moment.

"After this visit, remember that we have to pick up (Y/N) from the airport," he commented to Cole, who was driving and stopped right in front of the door of that quiet place. Aemond had chosen a good centre. To show he even seemed worried about that part of his family.

"Of course," was all Cole replied as Aemond got out of the car. He straightened his scarf and his long black coat. You would spend those Christmases with them. You were six years old then, and Aemond had fought with claws and fangs for his little dragon to be with him on such important dates. But, before going to look for you, he must seem like a good and dedicated brother. He took that little Christmas cake and crossed the metal gates of that psychiatric centre in absolute silence.

The visits were always attended in a leafy garden that shared space with the forest that surrounded that placid place. Rhaenyra and he walked in silence through that cold place due to winter. What had been garden green in the spring was now grey and dull green, almost as dull as her older sister's eyes. After what had happened, Rhaenyra's protective family had decided to send Daemon far away and protect the little wonder from her uncle's bullying. A dedicated family. A dedicated brother... true, calculated revenge. They both sat down, and Aemond broke a small piece of cake that Rhaenyra accepted docilely, thanks to the medicines she was now taking.

"My children are going to take me out for Christmas Eve," she commented in a whisper just before that emaciated woman took a small bite of the cake. "I suppose you'll spend it alone..." she said, full of hate. She knew what was going on; she had never been crazy, but it had been another part of Aemond's manipulation. From that moment on, all the Targaryens would dance to his rhythm. To him, it was a fair deal after being so beaten up and bullied mercilessly.

"Hmm, Aegon's little girl is coming with the family to spend these holidays," was all he answered his sister before dropping that bombshell that would destroy Rhaenyra. "And... they asked me if it was okay for you to go with your children tonight." He pursed her lips in a tired, angry grimace. "I think you know what I said."

Rhaenyra swallowed the cake she was eating with difficulty. And she knew there was no escape. Aemond was going to make her pay for all her sins, for all they had made him suffer. They did not speak again, and Aemond was once again a hero. The concerned brother. The devoted brother.

Just as they were collecting his sister, Aemond saw her pick up the same knife with which he had cut the cake, but he said nothing. Rhaenyra was not allowed to possess sharp or cutting things due to a diagnosis by the doctors at that centre. But his brother didn't say anything. He only watched undaunted as she took it and left. Whatever she did with that knife was none of his business. Maybe it was calculated... or not. You would never know. And whatever she did, it would just be another way of showing herself to be what she was to Aemond: an indecent bloody monster.

That night, while you were opening the many gifts Aemond had bought you and he was reading you a bedtime story, Rhaenyra bled to death alone in that psychiatric room. She could never escape Aemond Targaryen's dominance and control, and she chose to end it the only way she knew how. No one ever knew how that knife got to her, but everyone agreed that Daemon had driven her mad. No one could think that Aemond's vengeance was slowly destroying that part of his family because no one knew.

[thatstheproblemwithnapkinman]

new fic time

you can read it below the cut here on tumblr or over on ao3

I'm Stuck in this Life, and I'm Stuck in these Pants

Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

Gen

Fandoms:

Batman - All Media Types

Justice League - All Media Types

Relationship:

Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne

Characters:

Bruce Wayne

Dick Grayson

Clark Kent

Justice League (DCU)

Additional Tags:

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

its crack and hurt/comfort so have fun with that

enjoy the whiplash

no beta we die like jason todd

Dick Grayson Needs a Hug

Dick Grayson Gets a Hug

Dick Grayson joins the Justice League

Hurt Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson Has Eldest Daughter Syndrome

Probably ooc

Bruce Wayne is Trying to be a Good Dad

One Shot

Language: English

Summary:

"Do you want me to join the League?" The League would assume it was an open question, but Bruce knew it was directed at him. This moment was in complete contrast to years of conversations about protecting their identities and keeping their former partnership a secret. He needed to speak up.

"You are one of the best, you deserve the right to choose." He responded, consciously keeping his voice in Batman mode.

aka Dick get chosen to join the League but before he does he has to face his inner demons

Notes:

this started as a crack fic and became hurt/comfort so be aware, it's also the longest single chapter work i have every written at 6082 which is short for some people but me and my adhd tried no beta reader obviously so any mistakes are there for good now. i did a sweep but again, it's tagged and i've warned you so no telling me i spelt something wrong or used the wrong version of there ok *points at you*

Bruce had been working with the Justice League for over a decade, taking solo heroes and turning them into a team. They knew each other's strengths and weaknesses and can bounce off of one another during combat. It took time but they truly were a single unit. He's proud of what they have accomplished.

The rest of the League weren't on the same page. Sure, they all worked well together, but then there's Batman. He kept to himself, was never on the watchtower when he wasn't needed, constantly avoided talking about himself, and looked like he hated being with them. After years of working together, everyone had revealed their identities, some by choice, some accidental. Everyone but Batman. No one in the League knew who he was. They knew very little about him, other than that he's completely human (probably) and that he's from gotham. He doesn't even let them in his city, with strict rules about them working there. something about "human rogues" and "dangerous for supers". They disagreed with the rule, but without explicit permission from him, they couldn't enter. And no one was about to argue with him.

The time had come to propose new members for the League. Everyone was allowed to submit up to one person to join, and unless there were any serious objections, they would put it to a vote and the person with the most votes would join the League, provided they wanted to of course. But no one had ever turned down their offer before, who would refuse to join the Justice League?

The majority of the League didn't put anyone forward. Barry had suggested Wally, not as a new member but as his replacement given he was looking to retire from the hero game, and given that Wally had left the Titans recently, was available. Batman had said that would be discussed separately at a second meeting as replacements were a different conversation. No one had spoken otherwise, until the nominations got around to Superman.

"I do have a nomination this year. I've worked with this person a lot and I believe they would be an excellent addition to the League. They have been in the game for almost 10 years and protect an entire city on their own. He truly is one of the best."

A chill went down his spine and Bruce suppressed a shudder. That could apply to multiple people, a lot of heroes have been around for a while. But very few were responsible for a city, and there was only one person he knew that was close with Superman.

“I nominate Nightwing for the League."

Honestly, he was surprised it took this long for Dick to get nominated. He was one of the most capable heroes out there, having worked alongside the League before as both an independent hero and as the leader of the Titans. He worked well with others, as Bruce would know given he was Robin for a decade. He trusted no one more in the world. Batman fought well with the League, but he was constantly thinking about how to work with their moves. watching himself and others, predicting what they would do so he could make sure he wasn't interfered with. But with Nightwing he could just fight. They knew exactly how the other would move, and on instinct could follow through. He knew they would both protect each other.

"...Batman?" Superman broke him out of thought

"Hn"

"Do you object?"

Having him on the team would mean he wasn't alone. He had someone there that immediately understood his plan and was much better at communicating with the others. He would be a bridge, a bridge that provided support for everyone. Bruce would also have an excuse to work with him more. He did sometimes miss the conversations they would have in the field, the snarky jabs at rouges, the smile on his face whenever he managed to make Bruce laugh.

But having Dick on the team put them at risk. It wouldn't be too hard for the League to figure out that they knew each other. They could dig and find a connection to Gotham and then to everyone else. Maybe something he'd say would cause a memory to resurface for one of them, a memory of Batman during the time when Dick wore the cowl, and they could see that Nightwing happened to disappear during that time. It was too risky.

He opened his mouth to object, but no sound came out. Dick had taught him a lot, one of which was to trust him. Dick was his own hero now, and he could weigh up the decision. He deserved the chance.

"No."

"Ok then, as no one else was nominated, that negates voting. Batman, could you give him watchtower access and request him?"

Trying to figure out how he could manage this, he got up and moved over to the console on the side. Dick had watchtower access, they all did, but he went through the process of giving it anyway, all it did was throw you a message saying they already had it, which Bruce dismissed. That was the easy part. bracing himself, he tuned into the comms.

"Oracle."

"What's up batman?" Babs always cloaked her voice, even on the bat exclusive channels, but he could still make out her speech pattern and a sliver of her accent.

"I need you to relay to Nightwing that he is requested in the watchtower."

"Y- yeah." The surprise wasn't hidden at all. "Everything ok? Do you need me to send it to anyone else?"

"No."

"Right, I'll let him know." Static on the line told Bruce that Dick was in the same room and they were discussing it. He was in Gotham that night, helping out while Bruce was with the League, and must have stopped into the watchtower. "Yeah, ok, he's on his way now."

Bruce hung up. He felt bad not thanking her but he had an image to uphold. The League all thought oracle was an AI program, and it would be weird. Not for someone like Clark, who would thank automatic doors half the time. But Batman? People would be worried.

He'd barely made it back to the table when the zeta-tube whirred to life.

"Entering, Nightwing, B-01"

"Wait, hold up, there's a B?"

"I know he isn't Titan anymore but weren't they T?"

"That was really fast, like he was expecting it..."

Bruce tuned them out and turned to face his former partner, now only a few feet away.

"So... why exactly was I requested?"

Complete confidence in his voice. If Bruce didn't know him, he would assume he was comfortable. But he could see the minor tension held in his chest, the way he rubbed his thumb along the side of his index finger, how his footsteps were almost silent to not disturb. Dick was confused, curious, and concerned.

Superman stood up. "We held nominations for a new member, and your name was put forward. We deliberated and would like to extend an invitation to join the League."

Dick stood there. He was completely still and looked in shock, and was staring directly at Bruce. They could see each other's eyes behind their dominoes thanks to the lenses in them, so he could see Dicks locked onto him, narrowed as if to ask 'what the hell is going on?'. If he hadn't opened his mouth, Bruce would've walked over to check on him.

"Do you want me to join the League?" The League would assume it was an open question, but Bruce knew it was directed at him. This moment was in complete contrast to years of conversations about protecting their identities and keeping their former partnership a secret. He needed to speak up.

"You are one of the best, you deserve the right to choose." He responded, consciously keeping his voice in Batman mode.

He was so proud of what Dick had become. He'd outgrown Robin, had gone far beyond what Batman could be, and had truly become the best. No matter how much he tries, it's hard to keep the affection he had out of his tone.

Dick noticed, and softened his posture. He started towards him and Bruce felt the League tense behind him. Normally he wouldn't allow anyone that close without reason, yet to them, here he was, letting this almost stranger into his personal space. Ignoring them, his eyes remained locked onto Dick until he was alongside him, forcing Bruce to turn around and face the League.

Every set of eyes was on him as Nightwing clapped him on the shoulder. The last person who'd tried anything like that had ended up with a batarang in their hand. Batman wasn't a people person and that was to be respected. The rest of the League tensed, prepared for bloodshed that would never come.

"Well, if Big Batsy over here gave me the stamp of approval, I would be insane to reject it immediately, although I am going to need some time to consider."

The majority of the room looked shell shocked as Bruce took his seat and Dick shuffled to stand behind him, resting his arms on Bruce's shoulders.

"I mean, this is a very big decision and I would at least like to discuss it with my team."

Flash spoke up. "But I thought you left the Titans? Wally said it was something about trust issues."

Dick snorted.

"Wally’s right, the endless debates about identities and how valuable they can be started to get on my nerves. If you must know, we disagreed on if I can be truly trusted without revealing my identity, so I chose to leave, along with Wally and Donna. With B over here, I assume you don't share their sentiments." He tugged on the bat ears as he spoke, a gesture he'd been doing since he was Robin, and something they both found comfort in.

The League was still in shock over how Batman was letting someone be near him, let alone play with his cowl. Bruce should've stopped him, kept up the act, but he was tired and he was happy Dick was this comfortable around him, after all the time they spent at a distance.

He sensed the rouse of working alone was coming to an end

Dick was having too much fun.

Sure, he was honoured for the invite, but messing with Bruce in front of the League was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. Of course, he wouldn't jeopardise their identities, but just getting to poke the bear would bring him so much joy. Making the Justice League lose their minds watching this random hero from Blüdhaven get close and personal with Batman and walking away unscathed was the highlight of the year, and it was clear Bruce was also enjoying it.

Well, he was tolerating it, which meant he found comfort in it and didn't growl at him.

He'd take it, after all the years they spent at each other's throats. Dick's later teenage years as both Robin and Nightwing hadn't been the most pleasant. He was a teenaged boy who'd spent every day at school and then came home to be ordered around. He needed his freedom and he'd gotten it, albeit by less than peaceful means. But after he came to terms with being fired, and had recovered from Jason's death, he'd started mending their relationship, and now they were closer than they'd ever been. So he was absolutely going to stand too close to Batman and put the League on edge.

It was even funnier given he'd met most of them before, back when he was Batman. Not that they'd know it, he made an excellent brooding, works alone, Dark Knight Batman. Even as he actively worked with Damian, Tim, Steph, and Babs. But he'd kept up the mythos, kept everything in the dark, and had seamlessly given the mantle back to Bruce once he was ready. As far as the League was concerned, he'd never been here before and was no different than the other ex-Titans.

At least, he hoped that. A hope that was crushed when Hal Jordan opened his mouth.

"Ok, but explain why you have the code B-01 for the zeta tube? The Titans were under T, and as far as I am aware, no one was under B."

This is where the real fun begins.

"Yeah, I've asked B the same thing, but he said it was due to clearance issues, that T had restrictions and I needed to be separate from that. I'm honestly surprised he didn't just throw me in with you guys, make me like 3-6 or something, but he's paranoid and didn't want to risk anyone finding it so..."

This seemed to confuse him more.

"What kind of clearance?"

Dick walked around the side to lean against Bruce, folding his arms and crossing his right leg behind his left.

"Oh, y'know, being able to use the Gotham tubes."

He feigned innocence, knowing the storm that would erupt from those few words. And indeed it did, as shouts echoed around the room in disbelief that someone other than Batman can enter Gotham.

After a few minutes of this, Dick saw something click in Superman's head. Dick had worked with Clark a lot, and had been inspired to take the name Nightwing from him. Clark was the only member of the League that knew Batman had a Robin, although he'd never personally met anyone besides Dick and probably assumed Batman worked alone now. He also knew Clark hadn't pieced together that Nightwing was that Robin, which was surprising given he took his name from a Kryptonian myth that Clark had told him once. But we see what we want to see and as far as everyone was concerned up until this moment, Batman and Nightwing didn't know each other.

But Clark had seen it. He'd seen Robin tug on Batman's cowl. He'd seen how Robin was the only one Batman allowed to get near him. He'd seen Robin's eyes light up telling him the story of Nightwing and Flamebird. Nightwing was Robin. An older, stronger, all-round better fighter and strategist, but still the same little shit he'd always been. The Man of Steel had finally figured it out.

"Robin?"

Silence fell and everyone turned to face Superman.

"Who?" Barry tilted his head like a dog, a move that almost caused Dick to snort at.

"You know, Robin. Batman and Robin? He used to have a 12 year old kid dressed like a traffic light follow him around everywhere..?"

Nothing.

"Wait, did no one else meet Robin?" all eyes remained locked onto him.

Breaking the silence, Diana, who had been quietly watching this unfold, made her way over and stood next to Batman with tension throughout her body.

"Batman-"

"Hold up, Nightwing still hasn't explained anything, like how he can enter Gotham, and who is this team he has if he isn't a Titan anymore?" 

Dick unfolded his arms and placed his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He gave a subtle squeeze, asking if he could explain. After a second, Bruce shrugged, the signal for yes.

"When I was 9, B took me in and trained me. He taught me how to fight, but he also showed me how to be a detective. Once he knew I could handle myself and be an asset, he let me go out with him. I chose the name Robin and to wear bright colours. We worked together for a decade before I outgrew being his sidekick and became Nightwing, operating solo in Blüdhaven or with the Titans."

"I thought Robin died..." Superman looked straight at Dick, locking eyes with him as if his mask wasn’t there.

This startled the two of them. Maybe Clark knew more than they thought. Bruce shifted under his hand, letting him know he was there. This was still a tough subject for them both, given how their current standing with Jason was. 

“Well, I’m clearly not dead so… Don’t know what to tell you, Supes.”

Clark furrowed his brows and looked down. The journalist was clearly unsatisfied with that response yet chose to let it go. The rest of the League shuffled around, obviously uncomfortable with the latest development. Dick took that as his cue.

“Welp, with that revelation I shall leave and ponder your offer. Good morrow fair Justice League.” Tipping his head into an incredibly dramatic bow and sweeping his arms out, he turned on his heel and headed for the Zeta Tube. He’d had his fun but the mention of Jason had brought him back to reality and he wanted to leave. A nice, long, warm shower awaited him at home.

Pondering was hard. Dick discovered this as he sat in his shower, the water falling on his face. After making his way back to his apartment in Blüdhaven, he’d climbed out of his suit and straight into the shower as his thoughts finally hit him.

Holy shit, he’d been invited to join the League.

He knew he’d been a vigilante for longer than most of the members, save for Batman, Superman, and Captain Marvel. But that still didn’t diminish that fact he was chosen to join THE superhero team. 

Dick loved being on a team. He was a leader by nature but he also liked bouncing ideas between people. He knew he wouldn’t be in a leadership position but he wouldn’t be seen as less. He would be an equal and that was all he needed. Besides, he would be working with Bruce, someone that knew his abilities and just how useful he could be. 

“Oh. Ok, that need for approval will be promptly filed away in the ‘things to bring up in therapy’ folder,” he mumbled to himself. He’d been working on his people pleasing tendencies and desperate need to prove himself and be more, yet clearly not enough. Wally called it his ‘eldest daughter syndrome’ and he couldn’t really disagree. He did put the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes. But this was why he needed a team, people who he could rely on when needed. People who could help remove some of that weight. People he could trust. The trust issues that came with being a bat never really go away, huh.

He stood up, turning the shower off, and wrapped himself in a towel. There was no point in thinking about it any further. His answer was obvious. He opened the bathroom door and made his way into the main room, where Batman was waiting for him.

“You are so lucky I put a towel on.”

Bruce grunted. Dick rolled his eyes in response.

“Seriously, I could’ve walked out with nothing on and that would have been traumatising to both of us. Imagine me having to explain to everyone why you can’t look at me, how embarrassing that would be.”

“Hn. I came to congratulate you.” Dick couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his lips at that.

“Thanks B. I'm still a little shocked if I’m being honest. I know I’m not an unknown vigilante, but not only being noticed, but getting nominated and accepted is a big deal.”

Bruce stepped closer, pulling his cowl down and placing his hand on Dick’s shoulder. Dick looked down at the ground, sheepish in the face of actual affection.

“Dick, you have been doing this for longer than almost everyone. You’ve helped save the world countless times and been a beacon of light and hope. Not only to the rest of the world but to me too.”

His head snapped up and he met Bruce’s eyes. After a second it was Bruce that looked down at the floor.

“I know I haven’t always been the best, firing you and acting the way I did after Jason… But you have made me proud, Dick, never forget that.”

Almost without thinking, Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce. Since he’d become Nightwing, they hadn’t been very affectionate with each other. They never really were but when he lived at the manor, when he was Robin, he would find comfort in Bruce’s arms after a bad night on patrol or after he woke from a nightmare. This was one of the few moments of vulnerability they shared and Dick knew to let himself fall into it. He felt pressure on his back, and he was enveloped in the embrace. He didn’t want to let go but knew Bruce wouldn’t if he kept hold. He almost didn’t, wanting to keep this moment going, but Batman had important work to do tonight. Gotham wouldn’t stay quiet for long. 

As if the powers of the universe were listening, beeping echoed from the cowl and the two separated. Bruce grabbed the comm and listened to whatever was going down, before turning to Dick.

“Don’t feel like you must rush this. I trust your judgement and know whatever you decide will be the right choice.” He moved back towards Dick before hesitating. Dick wasn’t sure what he wanted, but after a few seconds, he found his hair being ruffled. Just like when he was Robin. 

The pressure left and with a breeze, Batman was gone. Dick debated throwing his suit on and going to help, but he’d had a long day and needed the sleep. He would catch up with Bruce in the morning, after filing ‘Wanting the feelings he had as Robin’ to his therapy list.

“Has he decided yet?”

Bruce was glad his eyes were covered, otherwise the Flash would’ve seen a very un-Batman-like eyeroll. Wally was settling into the team well after Barry departed a few days prior, but he was clearly impatiently waiting for his best friend to arrive. That is, if Dick chose to join the team at all. It had been a week with no hint of a choice. Bruce didn’t want to push him, this was a big decision, but he also wanted to get the rest of the League to stop asking him. It was as if they were children, poking him and asking ‘are we there yet?’

“He has not, and I will not push him for a response.”

“But he said he would think about it, surely a week is long enough.” Wally paced back and forth as if he was trying to solve a complex math problem. 

“I am aware of that, but it is a big decision.”

“UGH I’m gonna call him, see if I can get him to choose.” He sped over to the tubes, punching in the coordinates for what Bruce assumed was Central City. 

“Recognised, Flash, 0-7.”

“Stupid tower and it’s lack of phone signal. How hard is it to install cell service up here…” His voice fading away as he travelled off the tower, finally giving Bruce room to breathe.

It was his turn for monitor duty, which he was supposed to do with Green Arrow, but had let Oliver off for the night, due to a gala he needed to attend. He himself was supposed to be there but unfortunately Bruce Wayne had come down with a nasty case of the flu and so wouldn’t be attending. The was partly true, Bruce had caught the flu and was suffering because of it, but no one would notice if Batman was quieter than usual. 

The silence he was enjoying was promptly broken by the Zeta Tube announcing the arrival of Clark.

“Entering, Superman, 0-1”

“Hey Batman, how’s the case going?” “Hn.”

“Good good. Don’t worry, I’m just here to pick up something before heading back to work. You’ll be left to your silence again soon.”

Bruce turned back to his files as Clark moved around the Watchtower. Of course, he wasn’t working on the file, but rather keeping track of where Clark was in the room. He was awful at keeping his emotions off his face, and Bruce knew he wanted something. No doubt it was Zeta access to Gotham for the night. Clark was covering the gala for the Planet and even with his speed, it would be quicker to go straight there instead of via Metropolis. He knew Clark was getting closer to him as he moved around, and finally, when he gathered the courage to stand right behind Bruce, did he turn around to face him.

“What do you want, Kal?”

“Well, I wanted to ask if I could have access to the Gotham tubes, just for tonight while I’m working there.” “You can just fly across the bay from Metropolis.”

“I- Yes I can but I would rather no one know Superman was around Gotham, and I believe you do too.”

Bruce sighed, his patented ‘Tired Dad Batman’ sigh as Dick labelled it after he managed to elicit the sigh on many occasions. Clark was right, he definitely didn’t want anyone thinking Superman was operating in Gotham on a night where Batman wasn’t. It would send the wrong impression and risk the exposure of the other Bats. 

“Hn. Fine. You can have one time access to the Tube nearest the Museum.” Bruce got up and made his way to the console.

“Oh, wow, err, thanks.” Clark stammered out as he followed. He started to put in the access code and was almost done when the tube roared into life, the screen showing the connection coming from the Batcave.  Both men turned to face the tube as a human outline started to appear. Bruce let a small smile creep onto his face as the announcement was made.

“Entering, Nightwing, 3-6.”

Dick stepped through onto the Watchtower and was immediately greeted by Bruce and Clark. He threw his iconic grin onto his face and threw his arms out

“Whoops, didn’t realise you guys were using the tube. Sorry about that.”

Clark tilted his head slightly, as Barry had when he’d been invited. Guess it was a midwestern thing. Bruce, however, just turned back to the console as he spoke.

“I see you had Oracle reassign you.” “I figured you were busy.”

“Yes.”

Dick snorted and made his way past Clark, who followed him with his eyes.

“Wait, Nightwing?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you number 3-6? We don’t have that many members so you should be a lower designation.”

Dick kept the smile on his face. 

“Inside joke, and when Oracle is the one giving me access, I couldn’t not ask.”

Clark looked as if he wanted to pry deeper, but that was cut off by Bruce.

“Superman, you will arrive about three blocks from the museum. I assume you can find your way from there.”

Clark turned back to the tube and nodded. 

“Recognised, Superman, 0-1.”

Then he was gone.

Dick turned to Bruce, and was met with a smile.

“Wally just left. He went to call you.”

“Oh, well I guess I’ll just call him back later. I didn’t come to see him.” Dick shrugged.

“Did you need something, or did you just want to test your new designation?”

“Ha, both. But I knew you were up here and working on the Fear Toxin case and came to offer help. That and tell you my decision. I figured it was pretty obvious I would accept.”

“I wasn’t so sure.” Dick frowned at Bruce. “You’ve just left your team, one you lead, to join one with people that don’t exactly trust you.”

“Hey, they don’t trust you either. Now there’s two of us.” Dick tried to deflect but after almost 20 years, Bruce knew to ignore this.

“I was unsure if you’d want to join a team so soon, let alone one where people already are weary of you. My reputation is something I’ve built but now people know you and I have been working together for a long time. The tension has been higher in the past week. I’m yet to be called out, though I suspect people will attempt to gather information from you on the incorrect assumption that would be easier. I wanted to leave the decision to you, but was tempted to inform you of how it has been in case that would change your mind. I don’t regret offering you a place on the team. If I’m being transparent, I would enjoy having you here, someone I can trust without any hesitation. But I want you to make sure it’s right.”

Dick inhaled sharply. Bruce had thought about this, and was actually being open with him. Since their meeting in his apartment, Dick had thought about it a lot. He’d jumped between joining and not, missing being part of a team but worried about how it would affect him and Bruce. When Wally had told him he’d be replacing Barry as the Flash, including joining the League, Dick had the only serious doubt about it. Not because he didn’t want to be on a team with Wally, he was his best friend. He just didn’t want it becoming another Titans debacle, where he was incredibly close to Wally and Donna, but everyone else questioned him because he hadn’t revealed his identity. 

That hurt. Being a bat meant wearing a mask and protecting your identity for the sake of everyone else. If even one of them was unmasked, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out the rest. So he never did. He couldn’t risk any of them. He couldn’t risk his family. And in protecting one, he lost another. The Titans slowly withdrew from him, getting more and more combative, and it resulted in a disaster of a mission.

What should’ve been a simple rescue after an earthquake ended up with Dick having to call in Superman to help. His plan had been solid but everyone other than Donna and Wally had abandoned it in a sort of coup. What they hadn’t planned, however, was exactly how the building they were operating around would collapse. Dick had studied the building’s structural integrity using blueprints and footage of the earthquake, and had constructed his plan to evacuate at the right speed and in the right order to minimise extra strain on the weakened foundations. This required to start from the central part of each floor and work outwards, maintaining the balance of the building. This ensured it wouldn’t crumble under the weight down one side. He’d been in the process of explaining this when the team had run off and started rescuing whoever they could access first, which altered the building’s centre of gravity as they shifted piles of rubble, and caused a complete collapse. 

Dick had called Clark immediately, a vulnerable moment where he’d screamed for Superman out of pure fear, who’d helped in recovering the bodies of those that didn’t make it, and after arriving back at Titans Tower, Dick had packed up his stuff and left. He’d dropped his bag at his apartment before going out on his bike. He hadn’t paid attention to where he was driving and the next thing he knew, he was outside the gates to the Manor. Driven there on instinct. He hadn’t gone in, just sat outside for longer than he should’ve, before driving back to Blüdhaven and beating the shit out of some corrupt cops, something that was incredibly cathartic. But part of him regretted not going up to the door and asking if he could stay a while. He missed having people around, and being alone in his apartment didn’t help with his thoughts. He knew it wasn’t his fault the team didn’t listen to him. He did everything he could. But people had died on his watch, and he’d called for help instead of handling it by himself. He was a leader and he’d let everybody down. 

A cough brought him back and he looked up to see Bruce had made his way over and placed his hand on Dicks shoulder. He’d missed it during his spiral, and Bruce had noticed. He could see his eyes through the cowl, new lenses that polarised for each other but no one else, and they were full of concern. Dick hadn’t spiralled like that in front of Bruce for a while and it was clear he was worried.

“I- I’m just thinking about the last mission I had with the Titans. Maybe it was time for me to leave leading behind me.”

“Dick,” Bruce brushed the hair that had fallen onto his face behind his ear. “We can’t always win. Sometimes we try our hardest and we lose. But we have to move on. I know this is hypocritical coming from me, but that’s why we have each other. Me, you, Robin, the Batgirls, everyone else. I know how much it hurts, I know the pain and anger and fear you feel inside. I felt it when you got shot, I felt it when Jason died, and I feel it every time one of you gets injured. But we are there to support each other and keep ourselves from getting lost in that pain. You taught me that. So I’m here to support you, and anyone else here will say the same thing.”

He coughed back his tears. Bruce knew what he was doing but made no move to get closer. That would be on Dicks terms.

“I want to be in the League, but I’m scared of messing up again.”

“You didn’t mess up. Clark told me what happened, how your team ignored your plan and acted in a way that caused the collapse. You then called for help when you knew you couldn’t do anything more. That’s why we are here, to help when needed.” Bruce sighed, but this time it wasn’t out of annoyance for Dick, but annoyance for myself. “I know I trained you to be the best. I know you put so much pressure on yourself to save everyone. To be there for everyone. And I know that is my fault. But you are not capable of saving everyone. No one is. Not me, not Wonder Woman, and not even Superman. That’s why the League has so many members with different strengths. Our strengths fill holes in others weaknesses. You would do that. You’re a natural leader who sees the best in everyone. You have an ability to light up the space and make people feel comfortable. You are one of the smartest people on the planet and could take over the world if you tried. Which, please don’t try to take over the world.”

Dick let out a sob as he laughed.

“I don’t plan on it yet, but if I do I’ll make sure to give you a few minutes' notice before I begin.”

Both men let themselves be vulnerable for a minute, holding each other and laughing. If the other Leaguers had been there, they would’ve lost it at the sight of Batman acting like… a person. The League probably believe all the rumours that Batman is a local cryptid, or maybe they prefer the vampire story. He’ll be able to find out, probably from people asking him about it.

Dick pulled himself back from Bruce and looked back up at him. They’d both been crying, but they both needed it. They’d both learned to be vulnerable sometimes, even if progress was slow. Bruce put his hand back onto Dicks shoulder, steadying himself. They moved apart and he straightened himself out.

“I’ll be okay, B. Besides, the moment someone else walks into the room, I’ll be all happy again.” 

“Dick.” Bruce tried to grumble but he could hear the compassion that lay underneath.

“Ugh, fine, I will deal with it, Mr Hypocritical.” 

Bruce smiled at that, knowing how this discussion would go if it continued. Dick knew it too, and soon they were standing next to each other, staring out the window at Earth.

He bumped Bruce, who bumped him back. It felt so calm, the two of them together. Not as Batman and Robin, but as Bruce and Dick. Father figure and first son. Two decades of fighting together, training together, learning together. He was going to have a lot of fun working with him again, this time as individuals. 

But more than that, he was looking forward to playing the League. He was ready to ruin them, to make them doubt themselves. He wanted to see how far he could go before Batman would step in, and knowing Bruce, it would be pretty far.

He was going to be ok.

Notes:

i hope you didn't hate that, it was a brain worm that bounced around in my head for weeks and i'm glad i was finally able to get it out oh, and the inside joke is that 3-6 is the date dick debuted in the comics, March 6th 1940, so for the non-us americans it would be 6-3 but they are american so... the title is a lyric from inertia by ajr, which i listened to whilst writing this (specifically the acoustic version) it's so good and can be found on youtube or spotify

[vclvetfleur]

Freak Show Chapter 6

Buggy x fem!reader

Summary: After landing on a new island, you've ran into a familiar face that you've had none stop thoughts and fantasizied about since the last time you've seen him.

TW: Dom buggy, degradation, NSFW, smut, MDNI

WC: 6.8K (25 words away for 6.9k)

Notes; This is my longest Buggy chapter yet. I am so proud of it. Im also not the greatest at writing smut. I hope you all are enjoying the fic so far. The updates aren't so frequent, but I hope you guys take time to lmk. Thank you :)

Chapter 6: 100,000,000 berries

Weeks have gone by, and you haven’t seen Buggy since. You were sure you’d love it this way, but a part of you felt a bit upset. You didn’t understand why. But there was something about his lack of presence that made a part of you feel empty all of a sudden. You shrugged it off most of the time. But the other day after raiding a village you had come across a familiar face. Buggy’s new wanted poster. 150,000,000. Wow. I guess the Marines weren’t too happy about the incident. You felt a mix of proud, but sadness. It was bittersweet. You ignored those feelings more and more.

You couldn’t miss him, and you weren’t going to allow yourself to.

You arrived back onboard, setting sail for a new place to settle and rob. You basically cleaned the whole village of all their belongings. And you didn’t need to kill that many of them either.

You laid in your quarters, staring at the ceiling, letting your thoughts go wild. You found every time you were alone you thought of the moment you swore to forget. You remembered every detail though. Every word. Every kiss. Every single thing. Especially the way he made you feel. You don’t think you ever laid with a man so determined to make you feel as good as you did. You found yourself staying up nights with your hand in your panties trying not to forget any minor detail of it.

You always finished with a waft of shame coming over you afterward. It was something you never saw coming in a million years. It almost felt like a really good nightmare.

You got up in the morning after tossing around for hours thinking about Buggy. You snuck off to the bathroom that attached to your room, opened the shower door, and slid inside. You turned the handle to let the hot water come over your body. You sighed, leaning your hair under the shower head before shampooing and conditioning it. Another perverted thought crept up and you immediately shook it out of your brain. He looked so good on top of you. Nope. You had to ignore these thoughts. You couldn’t do this to yourself.

This was beyond sick. You couldn’t be trusted with your own thoughts.

But neither could Vivienne. She had conversations with him nearly daily on their transponder snails. They spent hours into the night whispering to one another in fear of getting caught or found out. They didn’t feel good about sneaking around, but what they had seemed worth it to betray their captains like this.

“Where are you guys off to now?” Cabaji wondered, hoping he’d be able to get Buggy to set sail for where they were going as well. It’s almost half of the reason your crews were able to run into each other. The other reason was Buggy’s crazy obsession with ‘taking you down’. But it now seemed impossible now that both of your bounties were so high now. You sat at just 100,000,000 berries. 50,000,000 less than Buggy which bruises your ego a bit. But you were working on it. Your competitiveness always got the best of you. If you couldn’t get the highest bounty, you at least needed a higher one than Buggy. It seemed humiliating to be seen as less dangerous than him.

“I’m not too sure, we just left Longiana.” Vivienne huffed at the disappointment.

You couldn’t stand being alone in your room any longer. You pulled your hair in a silked veil to hide your wet hair before putting on your usual attire. You swiped on makeup before making your way out of the quarters. You were greeted by the crew, listening to concerns they had. Just questioned whatever was next. You had been raiding small villages, trying to keep low before having to go back to find the map of the grand line. It was far too dangerous, not just for you, but for everyone aboard the ship. Sure, the grand line is just as unsafe, but this was something preventable. You needed to act smart.

“Where the fuck is Vivienne?” You complained. You were sure she had a few plans she could recommend to you. She came up with decisions sometimes, it was just up to you whether it sounded like a good idea.

“Unsure ma’am. She hasn’t come out this morning. Even for breakfast.” Lily, a member of your crew announced. She was fairly new. She begged and begged to join, doing whatever it took. She tried to prove that she was brutal enough, but brutality wasn’t the only thing you searched for. The only reason you let her join was she had snuck onboard and stayed for days without anyone spotting her. She was quick. Sneaky. Smart. Logical. That’s what you looked for. And she was of good use to you. You had even brought her along to raids and she was able to sneak by food for the crew that would last you at least 3 weeks. The girl had everything it took to be granted the honor of joining you and your crew. She already had such deep dedication. She even won you over by saying she knew you’d be the one ruling every sea known. It was charming.

“Fuck- I’ll get her.” Your eyes rolled back. You couldn’t be sailing to nowhere. You needed a plan at the very least. You headed to her room and opened the door. Vivienne jumped in her bed, giving you an absolutely terrified look as if she had seen the world's scariest film and was told she’d die in 7 days after watching it.

“Oh keep your panties on. What do you recommend we do?” You questioned her.

“What if I was naked?” She asked you, clearly annoyed at the lack of privacy you granted her right now.

“I’ve seen it already. Not interested. Answer the question. None of these dumb fucks have a clue.” You shook your head, placing your hand against your temple, stressed out already after leaving Longiana. You were stressed even while at Longiana. You needed to plan something. You’ve never been so behind. You were always 5 steps ahead. But you felt like you were drowning. Nothing ever came to mind other than Buggy.

“go to Ginevia.” Cabaji whispered in her ear through her transponder. She hid it with her hair covering it.

“Uh- I think Ginevia might be a good place to lay low for a while. Little to no marines. Secluded. Bars everywhere. It seems good enough to stay…” Vivienne recommended. You waited for another village and Vivienne panicked.  “Or maybe… fuck- sorry I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She quickly made up a lie to get you to leave.

“Fine Ginevia it is…” You murmured. “Get rest my love. I need my right-hand man…” You gave her some kind of affectionate words to make up for invading her privacy previously. Her lips turned to a light smile, a part of her dying inside knowing she lied to you.

“I love you.” She granted you that.

“Love you too. Don’t miss dinner today or I’ll barge in here again.” You revealed a smile to her. You rarely showed anyone on board this side of you. But Vivienne was special. Maybe it was all the years spent together or just the fact you’ve always put such trust in her that let you be this way. You never thought she could ever hurt you.

You retreated back to the crew and set course for Ginevia.

“See you later my love…” Cabaji mumbled. Vivienne's smile turned even bigger before pulling the transponder out of her ear. He managed to grant her a smile every time they spoke.

If you could see her, you’d be disgusted.

Hour rolled by and you kept yourself busy by ordering people around. You spent an ungodly and suspicious amount of time with them. You often retreated to your quarters or trained. But you didn’t trust being alone with your thoughts. A rumor flew around that Buggy tortured you and you had gotten a new respect for life and the crew. You knew any day could be your last and you wanted to be around people rather than a hermit. What a load of horse shit.

You even helped out with dinner and setting tables. You sat at the head table, watching people flood into the room. Soon you saw Vivienne as she had made a plate for herself. You spent most of the dinner just giggling and talking to Vivienne about nonsense. “NO! But remember when he was turning around the corner and slipped!” Vivienne cackled loudly.

“No! Please! I forgot! Stop-“You cried in between laughs. “The fuckwad slammed right into a wall and fell!” You let yourself laugh loudly.

“Please stop! My stomach hurts! I can’t!” Vivienne gripped her side, causing you to laugh even louder.

But unfortunately, this could not last the entire night. Slowly everyone left and Vivienne excused herself to her chambers, claiming she was exhausted. You got up and grabbed a bottle of wine before retreating on your own.

You spent the night downing an entire bottle before knocking into a deep slumber.

This became a habit you acquired until hitting Ginevia.

You stepped off the boat before making your way around the village. There were a lot of bars. Vivienne did not lie at all about that. You passed by a wall, seeing wanted posters scattered. Some familiar faces and a few new ones. Monkey D. Luffy… what a dumb name… Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter? Oh, there was a new cutie there too. Sanji… looks like a bit of an asshole, but whatever. Nami… God… Usopp. What a prick. Your eyes landed on two wanted posters freshly put up. Buggy the Clown and yours. You stared for a while.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, drawing your sword quickly, looking behind you. No one… Weird. You felt another. You turned around again. Nothing. You felt wind pick up and without looking, grabbed whatever was being thrown on your shoulder. You pulled it over to examine it to notice it was a gloved hand. Fuck- he was here.

You threw the hand on the floor, bringing your heel to it quickly. “Ow! Bitch!” Buggy yelped from the corner as he came back to retrieve what belonged to him. You couldn’t make any eye contact for whatever reason. You pulled your foot off and made an attempt to leave. You didn’t want to look at him out of fear of how you’d react. “Aww come on! Don’t leave me waiting! It was a joke!” Buggy called out for you.

You chose to ignore him and continued to leave him behind. You could not stand to. Be around him right now was not something you needed. This was enough to itch the craving you had for him. You felt the collar of your dress halts you from moving any further. “Buggy let go.” You demanded, a sternness in your voice.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t miss me? I sure missed you a lot.” Buggy attempted to flirt, your eyes rolling. You recoiled, leaning your body away from him.

“Why would I miss you?” You knew why. You did.

“Hmm might be because I fucked you till you barely could even say another word.” Buggy whispered. He was well aware of how embarrassed you had been afterward, but he knew you desired him just as much as he did. At least he tricked himself into believing it.

“Fucking whatever… Just that was the last time, okay? Leave it at that. You’re not my friend. Or my lover. Just some stupid obnoxious clown who can’t seem to leave me alone.” You spit venom his way, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you be. But you knew he wouldn’t.

“I was here first!” Buggy yelled like a child.

You just ignored him once again, vanishing in thin air. You wandered around, making sure not to bump into anyone to blow your cover. You took this time to steal from the small shops around town. But it seemed like you constantly ran into Buggy. Despite him not seeing you, it seemed like you couldn’t escape him. You finally had gone over an hour without running into him before seeing his wanted poster once again. You couldn’t do it any longer. You had to find him. Just to get this off your mind already.

You wandered around town, unable to find him. The only place he could be was his ship. You walked along the port before finding the boat with the obnoxious jolly roger with his makeup look painted on it. You couldn’t believe you were letting your urges get to you this much. You wondered around before finding his quarters. You opened and shut the door, reappearing in front of him. He sat at his desk creating a new map. He looked a lot less flashy than you were ever used to. You never even knew his hair was that long. You always just assumed it was a part of his hat. His hair was bound with a hair tie as he just sat in his usual striped shirt and pants. You couldn’t help but look at his arms. They were slim yet muscular with small scars scattered around them.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Buggy asked, putting his pen away, laying back in his chair. His head turned to you, waiting for a response.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it since we left the Marine base. I wouldn’t come if I really just wanted to humiliate myself. So don’t make this as embarrassing as it needs to.” You confessed. It hurt to even have to say it. You never had to beg for what you wanted. But you’ve also never wanted something so bad.

“Oh, so you did miss me?” Buggy laughed at you. You groaned, wanting to make an attempt to leave, but you couldn’t pull yourself from doing so. “Beg then…” The room fell quiet. You’ve never had to submit to a man like this. Nor would you have ever allowed this kind of treatment.

“Fuck! Fine.. Plea-“ You began before Buggy cut you off. “No. On your knees and beg.” He ordered. You bit your lip contemplating if it was worth your dignity before lowering yourself on your knees.

“Please- I really just want you to fuck me again.” You begged for him.

“How much have you been thinking about me?” Buggy seemed to be entertained of the idea of you thinking about him. You huffed, ready to die of embarrassment. “Don’t act all shy now. You’re already on your knees.” Buggy pointed out, a laugh escaping his lips, enjoying seeing how seemingly easy this seemed for him now.

“Fuck- okay-… uh, like…” You couldn’t seem to actually confess any of this to him. You swallowed your pride eventually. “Every night. Whenever I’m alone, I always think about it. It’s the one thing I can’t get off my mind.” You quickly spewed out.

Buggy leaned in, seemingly interested in the fact.  “Oh, so you really need it bad huh?” He asked.  His elbows rested on his knees that spread apart from each other before returning to sit upright.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need it.” You said in a sarcastic tone. “Now can the humiliation please end?” This was all so degrading for you. Having to beg for sex was something you never had to do. And having to do so much for slight attention didn’t make it any better.

“Oh, but darling, the humiliation just started.” Buggy laughed at your embarrassment. You shook your head, deciding you were too good for this. You already lost so much of your pride to continue to let this all occur to you. You got up from the floor, heading towards the door mumbling under your breath. “Un fucking believable.”

Buggy watched you for a bit before sending a hand to grab a fist full of your hair and dragging your entire body back onto the floor. You fell down against the wooden floorboard, your knees and hands attempted to catch you. Your eyes went over to Buggy as you heard his boots hitting the wood as he made his way towards you. “I’m not done having my fun.” Buggy bent down in front of you, his face filled with sinister and sadistic ideas of what to put you through.

“I’m not gonna sit here and be humiliated.” You tried to protest.

“Well it isn’t really about what you like right now. You came here. You said you wanted this. I thought you never went against your word…” Buggy continued to demean you, using your own words against you.

-14 months ago-

You had gotten back to your ship after a loot with a few of your crew to see the entire ship disheveled. A few of your crewmates tied against each other or poles that ran throughout the ship as things were thrown around.

A pit of boiling rage filled you up. You dropped whatever was in your hands, a large thud hitting the floor with small clinging continuously hitting the floor. Your hands grew clammy and your face grew hotter by the second. “What the fuck happened here? What the fuck did you idiots allow to happen here?” Your voice boomed throughout the main deck. You inched closer to one of the crewmates, snagging their bounds off of their mouth and grabbing the root of their hair to look your way. “You better give me a good reason that my shit was taken, or you all are being thrown overboard.” You threatened. Vivienne scrambled to assess the damage. “Don’t you think it's a bit harsh…” Vivienne quietly chimed in.

“Shut the fuck up! Unless all your shit is ripped apart and stolen because of incompetent fuckwads, then you have the right to tell me what’s too fucking harsh!” You lashed out before turning back to the scared crewmate. “Now- who the fuck did this?” Your words coming out slowly to demean the crewmate even further. You drew a dagger, placing it under their chin.

“B-b-buggy… His crew ambushed us… It was so fast we couldn’t see it coming…” She cried, snot and droll coming from her face and down to her chin. You pulled the dagger away and released her hair as if it was poisonous to the touch. “Where the fuck did he go?” You asked.

“Look for me?” Buggy called out, standing on a barrel that sat upon the quarter-deck. He held a rolled-up scroll in his hand, waving it around to mock you. Your vision turned completely red, drawing your sword and charging over to him.

Buggy laughed manically before sending a punch over. You drew your sword, swinging to deflect it. You knew it would not do anything to him, but in the moment anything seemed like a rational thought. You forgot he wasn’t normal. His hand reattached itself behind you before striking you in the back of the head. You stumbled, not ready to hit the floor yet. You recovered quickly before charging again. You disappeared, but your footsteps gave you away. Buggy threw punches, missing most of the time, but catching you once he heard your footsteps more clearly. You swung a sword at him repeatedly, chopping him into tiny pieces before he put himself together. You held a grip on your neck, throwing you against one of the shrouds. You reappeared before him, his fingers growing a tighter grip around your throat. His laugh grew more annoying to you than ever.

He stepped down with a bit of a flashy performative state as if he was ready to do a show for the entire ship, bouncing with every step. “Checkmate, sunshine.” He laughed before stepping onto the bowsprit. He jumped off, landing on a smaller boat. You were paralyzed as he left his hand there to keep you pinned. “You morons! Go get him!” You cried out. The only non-bounded crew attempted to grab a smaller boat before realizing they were all sunk and destroyed by Buggy's crew. “Captain we don’t have any…” One of them confessed. You were finally released, and you rushed over to the railing before screaming out into the sea.

“Fucking listen to me! I never go against my word! And I will not stop until you and your crew are fucking gone! I will do whatever it takes!” You cried out. You were completely and utterly embarrassed and defeated.

-now-

“You know…you always knew how to make a girl feel so special.” You said sardonically.

“I mean- I made you feel pretty special at the marine base didn’t I?” Buggy reminded you. It seemed like this was something that was constantly going to be held over your head.

“You’re fucking ridiculous…” You shook your head. You weren’t sure if you were willing to go through this humiliation anymore. You stood up, trying to get the point across.

“I mean- it is your choice.” Buggy hops off his large chair, taking steps towards you. He walked over to you like a dark cloud ready to engulf you in. “You could either leave and hold this embarrassment of sitting here on my floor begging for me or…” His gloved hand reached down to your chin gently as he lifted your head up to look him in the eye. “I can give you exactly what you’ve been apparently thinking about every single night.” His last words huffed out, mocking the desperation you obviously were in.

You fell for it almost immediately. Your legs grew weak, your chest rose up and down quicker and your body leaned into Buggy’s touch, so desperate for him to give you exactly what you were craving. You broke his gaze out of complete embarrassment of what you’ve become. You’ve never behaved this way towards any man. No one made you feel the way Buggy did.

Your eyes left his and to a bottle that he carried in his room. “Fine- but can I have a drink so I can at the very least?” You needed more courage. Something to break the persona you had going for you.

Buggy’s hand flew to the bottle that he watched your eyes revert to, grabbing it before landing it back in between the two of you. “If it makes you less of a prude, be my guest.” His lips curled into a smirk. His finger flung the cap off before handing it over to you. You took a heavy breath, preparing for the awful strong taste before taking a pretty hefty swig. You’ve gotten a lot more used to it due to your time at sea. But it never got easy or tasted good enough.

You took a few more, gagging at the taste before setting it down. “I’m not a fucking prude by the way. I just need some sense of dignity.” You insulted him.

“You lost that bit of dignity the moment you came in. here begging me to fuck you.” He pointed out. He grabbed the bottle before taking a drink out of it with no problem. Just another way Buggy wanted to show off to you. The bottle sat back down on the counter, Buggy turning right back to you. His hand laid on your lower back, pulling your body against his significantly larger one. Your eyes laid on him, taking in everything you found strangely beautiful about it like the day at the Marine base.

Buggy leaned forward, pressing rough kisses into the nap of your neck, biting down a few times. You wanted to protest in fear of having marks being left on you for your crew to see, but the euphoria from it left you speechless. Only a few murmurs and whimpers left your lips. Buggy held your body up, holding you close to him as his kisses peppered down your collarbone. A few gasps left your lips, his teeth sinking into your skin, growing hungrier the more noises you made.

“You really want me that badly?” his voice in a rough tone, undoing your shirt, eager to see you the way he did just a few weeks ago. He exposed you to himself, taking in the sight before toying with your breasts.

You couldn’t help but let out another small whimper, nodding to his question. “Nu-uh. Verbalize your words, darling.” His lips curled into a sinister grin.

“Fuck-“ You were finally able to mutter something out. “Yes- Yes Buggy, I want you. Really really bad.” You gave him what he wanted. You just knew this would boost his ego tremendously.

“You’re a lot more pathetic than I assumed you were.” He couldn’t help himself. You always kept such a hard cold exterior. No one knew the real new under the persona you played. Maybe it wasn’t even a persona. Who knew? But he was able to crack the persona and get such a new version of you. It was so easy to him. There was a bit of pushback, but he was able to see something about almost no one ever got to see.

His hands roamed down your body, pressing his lips across your neck and shoulder. He grabbed the skirt you had on, putting his hand underneath. His fingers grazed the outside of your underwear, laughing to himself. “And you’re already so soaked…” He continued to pester you. “On the floor.” He ordered. You nodded, taking a seat down in front of him, completely at his will. “You look so much prettier at this angle.” His fingers caressed your cheek.

You were so distracted, staring at him to realize his hand made its way back under your skirt. You felt a pressure press up against you, a moan escaping your lips. “So much prettier when you’re acting like a little whore like this.” Buggy’s gaze grew darker, thinking of sinister things to do to you. His fingers rubbed circles over your clit, growing faster and faster. Your whimpers and moans got louder.

His fingers moved your panties to the side, sliding two fingers into you. You gasped at the suddenness. His fingers pumped into you slowly at first but grew quicker over time. You gripped your thighs, letting moans slip through your lips.

You bucked your hips but felt the absence of his fingers. “You’re not cuming without me, sweetheart. You gotta work for it.” You sat up straighter, reaching for the waistband of his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang up, hard already from watching you squirm around under his touch.

Your hands wrapped around his shaft, pumping him before bringing the head of his cock into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around him, bobbing your head. You removed your hands the more of him you took into your mouth. Buggy’s lips faintly pulled apart as his breathing grew heavier, soft moans leaving his lips. “Look up at me.” He called out to you. You obeyed, your eyes meeting his. He admired you for a second before snapping back to before.

He grew hotter, pulling his shirt off, throwing it off somewhere in the room, fully exposing himself to you. His hand grabbed a fist full of your hair, pushing your head down quickly. You gagged against him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. He watched you struggle to breathe, tears forming at the corners of your eyes before finally pulling you back to get some air. He let you gain control once again. He threw his head back, letting a moan slip out his lips before staring down at you once again.

Your pace grew faster, trying to concentrate on making him feel as good as he made you feel. “You look so much better with my cock in your mouth, you know that?” he attempted to say through heavy breaths. He felt himself grow closer before pulling away from you. He pulled you up by your hair, dragging you as he did so.

You yelped, following his guide as he finally released your hair out of his grip. “Take it off… All of it.” He sat down at the edge of his bed, his eyes laid on your body.

“You are such a pervert, y’know that?” You said before pulling off your skirt painfully slowly in Buggy’s opinion. “I’m not the one sneaking onto ships for a late-night booty call, am I? I think the real pervert is you.”

He made a valid point that you couldn’t argue. You stripped for him, baring yourself completely for him. He had no words. Nothing snarky or petty. He just sat there and admired you. He didn’t get to actually stare as much as he wanted to at the Marine Base. This time he had a complete view of you. “On the bed. Now.”

You took soft, unrushed steps towards the bed. Buggy grew impatient, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto the bed. You felt his hand strike your cheek, holding it before it started to burn. “You’re gonna listen to everything I say tonight, got it?” He threatened before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Now, are you gonna be a stupid fucking whore or are you gonna be good?” he asked, warning you of your answer as his grasp tightened around your neck.

“Can’t I be both?” You answered sarcastically. Your air flow grew more restricted. Buggy’s jaw tightened as he gave you one last warning. “I don’t know. Do you want to be able to cum tonight? Or am I gonna have you all I want and send you fantasizing about me more?”

You took time to think, wanting to test the waters a bit more before feeling another strike hit your cheek. “Times clicking. Come on, even though I wish we did, we don’t have all night.” “Fine- I’ll try to be good..” You reluctantly replied. Buggy had no choice but to take that response. His lips crashed against yours, moving his grip from your throat back onto your hair. He tugged at it slightly. Your lips move in unison together.

Buggy’s lips moved down to your jaws, making his way down as he peppered kisses down your body.

His lips ended at your inner thighs. You squirmed, eager for him to touch you again. You whimpered, needing him to finally give you what you wanted.

“You’re such a pathetic whore.” He laughed lowly. His hand reached over, lets his fingers graze you slightly. You twitched, bucking your hips for more.

“Please-please just touch me…” You began begging. His painted lips grew into a mischievous smirk. He was enjoying every second of breaking you down completely at his whim.

“Say my name.” He knew it would only break you more.

You groaned at the request but gave in quickly. “Please Buggy- Please just fucking touch me. Fuck me. Just please.”

He obeyed your plea. His thumb pressed light pressure against your clit, rubbing small circles. You gripped onto his sheets, covering your face to muffle out your moans as you let out an ‘oh fuck.” Immediately after. Your cheeks flushed red. Buggy ripped the sheets away from you. “Nu-uh… you wanted this. No need to be so embarrassed now.” He had to have a humiliation kink. If you’d let him, you wouldn’t doubt that he would have you chained and forced to walk around him in public.

His head leaned closer to your cunt, finally letting his tongue glide across your folds. Your back arched, your breath growing uneasy. His tongue swiped up and down, finding the perfect pace. His movements grew fasters as his thumb left your clit, being replaced with his tongue. He sucked on your clit a few times, loving the reaction you gave him every time.

“Fuck me- please just fuck me. I want you in me right now.” You interrupted him. He pulled away quickly, hoping you’d ask even sooner.

“You’re such a greedy whore.” He lined himself up with you before pushing himself inside you. His moan syncing with yours. Your hand gripped onto his muscular lean arm, After pumping into you a few times, you adjusted to his size. He spent no time trying to get you to get used to him. His hips slammed against your ass furiously, leaving the room with nothing but the sound of skins slapping together and breathy whimpers and moans. He leaned forward, bringing your leg up to give him more access to you.

You both caught each other's gaze before Buggy pushed your head to the side, pressing it against the bed, using you as nothing but support as he used your body as his own personal sex toy. Something about it made it so much better to you. There was no passion. Just sex. You both were using each other and that’s exactly how you wanted it to remain. Just dirty, animalistic sex. His thrust grew faster causing you to buck your hips towards him. You needed him.

His hand moved away from your face, wrapping around your throat tightly. He squeezed your throat as he would whenever you two would get into small battles with each other. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from you. His other hand moved to the back of your head, moving it up roughly, forcing you to watch him fuck you. “You like watching yourself get fucked?” He hissed before striking you once more, moving his hand back to your throat.

“Yes- I love it.” You cried. Your moans grew out of sync and faster once you were about to hit your limit. You couldn’t hold out longer, cumming all over his cock as he continued to fuck you. Your cheek stung after his open hand swung across your cheek. His hand gripped your jaw, forcing your attention to him. “I didn’t tell you when you could cum, did I?” he sounded furious, slapping you again.

You shook your head. Tears began to leak down your face, ruining the makeup you had put on earlier in the day. Dark black streaks of make-up ran down your cheek. “You’re such a whore. You couldn’t wait, could you?” He berated you. You shook your head again. Buggy spit across your face, causing your makeup to run even more. “Just a little plaything for me to use.” Buggy continued.  

“I-I’m sorry…” You attempted to say. You were already reaching a second climax. “Please let me cum again…” You learned. He trained you to be exactly what he wanted.

“Not until I say you can.” Buggy gripped your hips, using them to move against him as he thrusted into you. As he got closer, his thrusts grew sloppier, mainly using his grip on you to bounce you against him. “Fuck-“ he muttered out of breath. He pulled out of you, jerking himself off over you. You propped yourself up with your elbows, sticking your tongue out. “You’re so fucking disgusting.” He laughed at you. He leaned in, spitting in your mouth before shoving two of his fingers deep down your throat before pulling them out to replace his cock. He laid the head of his cock against your tongue before letting his cum release onto your tongue and a bit of your face. He pulled away before getting off the bed. He kneeled down, grabbing your legs, pulling you forward. He dived back into your cunt, this time with a quicker pace. His fingers entered you, pumping into you. Before he knew it, you began begging for him to let you cum. And he granted you the right. You climaxed, cumming around his fingers. You were left completely sore.

“I need to take a fucking bath…” Realization hit you. Your face was covered in spit and cum and your body littered with not just your sweat, but Buggy’s as well.

“Ya it’s on the right.” Buggy pointed out the bathroom. He was a lot softer and sweeter than he was just a few minutes away. “Do you need a towel?” He asked, getting up to check on you. Mostly out of concern and some for other perverted reasons.

“Uh- I think I found them…” You mumbled. You entered Buggy’s bathroom, taken aback by the luxuries he apparently had on board. Makes sense for someone who was obsessed with themselves you guessed. You didn’t bother closing the door. You filled the tub up, putting soap in it before sliding into it. “You can watch… I know you really want to pervert.” You called out to him. “Already a step ahead of you.” He called back out, laying on his back, taking a peak at you from the comfort of his own bed.

You grabbed a wash rag, scrubbing your body down before washing your face off. You removed all the makeup you spent time putting on earlier today. You were never really comfortable with people seeing you without makeup. You weren’t too comfortable with people seeing you naked either. And Buggy has seen one of those already. So it seemed less of a big deal. You drained the bath, stepping out. You patted yourself dry before coming back to the bedroom in search of your clothes.

“Why don’t you spend the night?” Buggy proposed. 

“Why? So your crew could rob us?” You questioned.

“You can go check on my crew. Half of them are setting up for the show tomorrow or getting black out drunk tonight.” Buggy offered. You scoffed, continuing your search. “Please-.” You heard Buggy’s pleads. You sighed, looking him down before giving in.

“Fine… But this won’t ever happen again. Got it?” You warned. Just like you did at the Marine base.

“Fucking yea yea. Go on. You’re the leader here.” Buggy returned to his sarcastic self after making himself look like a complete fool. You didn’t bother looking for your clothes before sneaking into his bed. It was almost like getting onto a cloud. Either Buggy robbed some rich elite prick or Buggy dropped an obscene amount of berries for it. Judging by Buggy’s room and his clear taste for luxury, you already knew which one it was.

You rested your head onto one of his pillows, letting your body rest. You didn’t realize how tired you actually were. You felt an eeriness, turning your head to see Buggy examining you. “Please don’t mention it.” You begged.

“You’re a lot less intense without all of that on…” Buggy mentioned it.

You shielded your face, groaning from embarrassment. “We all have personas. You have your clown thing. I have my intense dark thing. Drop it. Please.” “I think it looks rather nice. Cuter. Less stabby.” Buggy tried to compliment and joke to ease your discomfort. You unshielded yourself, nodding and taking the compliment.

“Thank you Buggy.” You mumbled. Your body turned to him. Your eyes attempted to stay awake for his sake and for fear of him betraying you. “See. Adorable. Like a little rabbit.” Buggy chuckled. He cautiously scooted closer to you and rested his hand on your hip. His hand slowly stroked your hip, not able to keep his eyes off you. He leaned in to press a kiss over you before you pulled away. “I don’t think that’s a great idea. We’re not having sex. You don’t need to play house with me.” You warned. You didn’t want to break a boundary. It bruised Buggy’s ego, but he covered it quickly.

“No round 2? You’re right. I’m tired too.” He tried to quickly recover. You felt guilty, but it was too much intimacy.

A silence fell over the two of you as you laid there, attempting to sleep. The awkwardness keeping you both up. You broke the silence. “You can hold me if you want…” You whispered.

It was dark inside the room, allowing Buggy to truly express how he felt. His lips grew into a huge goofy smile before wrapping his arms around you reluctantly. But in reality, that’s all he wanted. “I get it. The dark can be scary.” Buggy mocked you.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” You retaliated.

You leaned into one another. Your head resting over his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. Your hand rested on his toned arms. He rubbed circles into your hips, relaxing you. You both knocked out, wrapped around each other.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up early enough to make your escape unknown. You checked on Buggy to see if he was awake. Poor thing. You didn’t want to break his heart. You dressed yourself and gathered all your belongings.

Even the map to the grand line Buggy stole from you months ago. You vanished within thin air and escaped the boat. You woke your entire crew up, faking a story of a terrible encounter with Buggy. Thankfully you had enough time to cover your marks up, leaving a few to make the fight look believable. Your legs were littered with bruises. Your arm had a few scratches, and your chest had a few scattered around.

And there. You left port for a new island to hide out to.

Notes: This fan fic really represents how i've felt after realizing i was attracted to a clown rather than a normal character in the show

[takiki16]

Hey so I am starting to get into Jupiter Ascending fandom (a couple years late but what can I say). I was thinking of writing a fic. Do you have any resources for JA extra information?

Thanks in advance. Also I am loving your fic (it's how I started getting into the fandom lololol). can't wait to reread!!!

HOOOOOOO BOY!!!!

I'm paging @bemusedlybespectacled, @gallifreyburning, @vr-trakowski, @sorrelchestnut, @florentinequill, @fuckyeahjupiterascending, @vrabia, and honestly ANYONE ELSE who wants to chime in here, bc HOOOOOOO BOY!

(I made that sweet puppy in fucking 2015 on my dying laptop in the travel study dorm in DC, JUPITER ASCENDING HOW I LOVE THEE)

The eternal fucking tragedy of Jupiter Ascending is that the wider world doesn't love it like we do. Does it have every single thing that turns my crank, id-wise? Sure! Does it have gorgeous over-the-top sequined costumes and extravagant set pieces that remind you at every minute that this movie specially thanked Swarovski Crystal in the credits? Sure! Does it have theeeee single most pinpoint reading of MY PERSONAL FEMALE GAZE that Channing Tatum has ever done? (sorry mister Magic Mike, but you do not even come CLOSE to "may I kill him?" in terms of sexy) SURE! Was this movie a commercial or critical success? Absolutely not 😔

There isn't, as far as I'm aware, an art book. There isn't an official novelization. There isn't even an actual script posted to the usual internet databases that isn't just an automatic shitty talk-to-text rendition of the movie dialogue. There are concept art paintings and old cast interviews floating around, and this auction website where the Wachowskis auctioned off some of the props from the movie, but as far as canon resources and extra material beyond the movie itself there isn't much. A quick duckduckgo search would probably be more helpful to you than anything else, if any of the websites still have the articles up - it WAS eight years ago, and doesn't that just break my fucking heart.

My corner of tumblr LOVED this movie. In 2015, there were TONS of posts gathering interviews, posting concept art, making cosplays, all the signs of a small but healthy fandom ecosystem. However, we call this the blue hellsite for a reason - not all of those resources are still there, and the ones that survived time and incompetent archival site coding are probably difficult to find. I would definitely recommend trawling the JA tags of all the blogs I tagged at the start of this post, as JA introduced me to two of my longest and most beloved of all mutuals. ALL of their insights were key to A Fine Chain.

There is also my own jupiter ascending tag and my more specific jupiter ascending meta tag, although I don't know how bored you are lol. The general JA tag is 105 pages - I would almost recommend just starting at page 105 and working forward from there since it chronicles my descent into kinky space angel werewolf brain rot pretty nicely. There are also my ao3 bookmarks for JA.

I WILL SAY that it has been 8 years, and I have changed into a very different person than the one I was when I first saw this movie. I don't REGRET the first few chapters of A Fine Chain, or any of my breathless meta posts, but I do think that if I were to write any of them over again, I'd hope that my writing style has matured and I'd have lots more extra material to draw from. Actually graduating from law school, writing long fic in another fandom, and generally percolating more as a person has given me lots of new perspectives on JA that make it more interesting even as I still enjoy it (for example, HBO's Succession is ODDLY RELEVANT and I wish there were more JA fanwriters to take advantage of that fact).

...I hope that was helpful? I will ETERNALLY mourn the fact that this fandom wasn't isn't bigger - we haven't even broken 1k on ao3! But EYE MYSELF am here to discuss JA stuff as long as this weird spurt of creative energy sustains me, and my inbox is always open!

[grey-gazania]

20 questions for fic writers

Yoinked from the lovely @sallysavestheday and @melestasflight!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 65, though one is a compilation of unrelated short pieces.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 199,601

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly Tolkien, though I have a few older bits and bobs from other fandoms hanging around.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? In terms of kudos, my various Kidnap Fam stories are overwhelmingly my most popular:

A Stitch in Time (Elrond's life as seen by a quilt)

And They Looked Up and Saw a Star (Early-days Kidnap Fam WIP)

Root and All (Kidnap Fam feat. Maedhros, Elrond, and botany)

Speak No Evil (Kidnap Fam feat. Orkish lessons)

Little Drop of Poison (Kidnap Fam feat. injured Maedhros and healer Elrond)

5. Do you respond to comments? I try to respond to them all, but sometimes my responses are very late, especially if the comment comes when I'm having a depressive episode or a chronic illness flare-up.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Leaving aside unfinished multichaps that will have angsty endings but haven't gotten there yet, it's probably either The Hearts of the Eldar (the Third Kinslaying and all that it entails) or Pain Unbearable (Maedhros' death).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably Half Past Ten in the Rose Garden (Caranthir/Caranthir's Wife engagement rom-com). Still debating whether I should add another chapter or wrap it where it is.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Only ever on fics featuring Fingon's wife. Some people get real heated about those.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I don't, nor do I read it. It's very much Not My Thing. I think the closest I've come is The Bed We Share (Fingon/Fingon's Wife, Fingon/Maedhros), which does have a sex scene, but it's not particularly detailed.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? No, though I do enjoy reading them on occasion. I'm going to take this opportunity to recommend Evidence by Camwyn on FF.N, which is the single most delightful crossover I've ever read. (Silmarillion/Discworld)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! A kind reader translated Root and All into Russian, where it seems to have been moderately well-received, at least from what I can tell using Google Translate.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope. I suppose I'd be willing to give it a shot, but I do have Very Strong characterization opinions that might make it difficult.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Maedhros/Fingon! Though Elrond/Celebrian and Caranthir/Caranthir's Wife are close seconds, and Glorfindel/Erestor and Legolas/Gimli are very old and longstanding favorites as well.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Things ain't lookin' good for The Longest Journey I Have Known (Fingon's wife and Celebrian travel to Valinor). I am Extremely Stuck.

16. What are your writing strengths? Worldbuilding, character dynamics, and description.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? PLOT. God, I am so bad at come up with interesting plots. Also probably pacing, I need to improve in that respect.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I do it rarely -- in fact I think Maps might be the only Silmarillion story where I've done it. I included a Quenya translation of part of a Yiddish folk song, and in that case I had help from the Lizard Council, and particularly from the esteemed and dearly missed Darth Fingon, who looked over my translation and corrected a few errors.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Star Wars, back in, uh, 1999, I think? I've been doing this for a good 25 years.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Girl, that's like asking a mother to choose her favorite child! But if I absolutely must pick, it's probably The Flight of Birds, which features Elrond, newly arrived on Balar, dealing with his conflicted feelings about his mother.

Tagging @thelordofgifs, @vidumavi, @cuarthol, @swanhild, @leucisticpuffin, @emyn-arnens, @polutrope, @welcomingdisaster, @zealouswerewolfcollector, @that-angry-noldo, @thescrapwitch, @spiritofwhitefire, @swanmaids, @hhimring, @elfscribe, and anyone else who wants to share -- @ me and say I tagged you!

[tellmegoodbye]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you @sznofthesticks for the tag!

How many works do you have on ao3?

10. I used to have around 30, but I orphaned a bunch of my old stuff recently.

What's your total ao3 word count?

112,750

What fandoms do you write for?

Shameless, 911 Lone Star, and hopefully 911 in the future? I really want to but I don't have any ideas atm.

Top five fics by kudos:

I excluded fics that I cowrote, so this is all completely my own writing. These are all more recent too, so this is much more representative of my current writing style.

shut the door and let go

lover, please stay

when all is said and done

our love will guide us home

will the pain stop (if we go deeper)

Do you respond to comments?

I try to respond to as many as I can! Sometimes I run out of words to say (communication has never been my strong suit) but I read every single one and they always make me smile.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

will the pain stop (if we go deeper)

This is the most I have ever projected my personal experience onto a fic. I was going through a breakup at the time and not handling it very well, and writing a breakup fic really helped me cope with it at the time.

I'm doing much better now, and my ex and I are on good terms. Even though the ending to the fic itself was angsty, I'd like to imagine that the characters are doing better now as well.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics tend to have happy endings, but if I had to pick the most satisfying happy ending it would be lover, please stay.

Most of this fic is pretty angsty, but the ending makes it all worth it I think!

Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully I haven't received any nasty comments. I did receive a kind of weird comment once, but I completely forget what it even was.

Do you write smut?

I never did before I got into the shameless fandom, and then I kind of went crazy with it after that.

Craziest crossover:

I've never written a crossover before. It's not something I've ever considered or even know if I would want to do.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Hopefully not!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Many times with my ex, back when we were still dating. It was a lot of fun and definitely something I'd like to try again in the future! I've always enjoyed collaborating with other people.

All time favorite ship:

Favorite ship I've written for? Tarlos. Favorite ship I've never written for? Tiva, aka Tony and Ziva from ncis. I also love Densi (Deeks and Kensi) from ncis la.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have not written a chaptered fic in years and it is something I would really like to do. I have several ideas including a detective au that I've floated between two separate fandoms, but I still haven't been able to make any progress regarding those wips.

What are your writing strengths?

Angst and introspection! I love getting into a character's head and psychoanalyzing them (I am a psych student, after all 😂) and I also love writing sad shit. I'm a sucker for pain, it seems.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Transitions. We all know them, we all loathe them.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

If it makes sense for the situation/characters, of course! I wouldn't go overboard with it though, since I don't actually speak any other languages myself.

First fandom you wrote in:

Minecraft youtube, but like the old school kind. Around 2014-2015ish. And I physically wrote everything down in little journals. Fanfic was only something that existed in my head at the time until I discovered the likes of ff.net.

Favorite fic you've written:

My most recent fic always becomes my favorite, and that holds true today too!

My push coda, my baby, our love will guide us home.

This is something I'm incredibly proud of, and it's also my longest fic to date and something I wasn't sure I would ever be able to finish. I'm still kind of in disbelief that it's finally real.

Tagging (with no pressure ofc) @strandnreyes @carlos-in-glasses @freneticfloetry @welcometololaland and @lemonlyman-dotcom

I do remember this tag going around a few months ago so if you've already done this, you can either do it again if you want to or just accept this virtual hug from me. 🫂

[anyalovesu]

tolerate it.

x. i made you my temple, my mural, my sky

—“i can’t seem to explain how it all happened, but one day it all started to make sense and not make sense at the same time. leon became more important to me than he ever was before, and it was scary—the feeling of it was, because it would mean that if i lost him again it would hurt so more.”

necessary reminders !

—leon and eli does 🔞 stuff at some point of the chapter.

— it's my first time attempting to write something like this, so if it turns out bad pls cut me some slack hehe

— it's not piv but i think i still needs to be labeled at 18+ so pls pls pls if you are UNDER 18 and is reading this fic, do not interact with this post.

— MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI

— again mdni pls pls pls

— if this is not your kind of shit, dni too hehe tnx sm

click here for bianca + gremlins gc convo

continue here (alonzo park and leon park's conversation)

Leon thought of it. Alonzo Park was right. It is easier to love someone when you’ve already seen them at their worst. Maybe that’s a tad bit toxic to fall for someone at their worst, but really, his mom’s and Eli’s versions of worst wasn’t half as bad at all. It really was just realizing that they never meant to be bad. It’s just that hurt people hurts people and he is no stranger to feeling that way. Leon wasn’t going to deny the fact that he hurt Eli when he was in that position too.

A month ago, everything was a huge mess and maybe he really did underestimate how hard this was for Elijah. After all, if Eli was the one who left him, which was unlikely, he would’ve reacted the same way that she did, worse even. It’s stupid how it took him seeing almost every single canvas Elijah has painted on to realize that she took the deeper cuts when the fallout maimed them both. While he was dating around the past four years, Eli was continuously mourning the longest friendship that she has ever known. While he was enjoying the comfort of someone else’s arms, and while technically Eli was too, it can’t be denied that the hurt inside her never healed. 

And now pulling over in the driveway of the house that Eli and her team built, never felt more welcoming. It never felt more accepting of him after their conversation back in Batangas and their conversation during their way back. 

Elijah must be some kind of saint in her past life to only take an apology and heal, because it never would’ve been the same way if it was him who was placed in that kind of position. After everything that she has done for him, to be abandoned because he allowed himself to be manipulated to do so, was something he never would’ve forgiven. But Eli did. Elijah understood. It was what she fell asleep reminding him when they were in Batangas. That he should also forgive himself because it wasn’t his hands for someone to use his own capability to love against him. 

Gaeul’s sharp pitchy barks filled his ears as soon as he was out of his car. The little white dog jumped happily as soon as she was let out on the front door porch. Leon recalls how good Gaeul really was in letting everyone know that one of her family members was home. He was actually expecting her to be more timid after being introduced into a place that wasn’t his apartment nor was their family home, but it seemed that she adjusted really quickly into the house. It must’ve excited her that it wasn’t just her and Leon anymore.

“Dinner’s ready, dalian mo na d’yan, nauna na mag dinner si Gaeul sa’yo,” Eli tells him.

Leon chuckles. “Sermon agad? Hindi ba p’wedeng kiss muna?”

“Kumain muna,” she whined, stomping her foot, making Leon laugh at how childish it was. “Ang tagal tagal mo nagugutom na ako!”

“Bakit hindi ka pa kumain?”

“Bro, you were the one who asked that we eat dinners together as much as possible,” Elijah rolled her eyes at him playfully.

For a moment he really did forget that he was the one who asked for her to be home for dinners, but she rarely ever was home on time. She always worked extra hours just to avoid him, which he understood why she did by all means. He eventually got into eating his dinners alone and falling asleep before she came home.

Except the past few days though. She was home at the expected time that she would be with distance and her office hours considered. It was too good to be true that he and Eli were finally seeing eye to eye like they did before.

It made his heart full to think that Eli is finally warming up to him.

“I did ask you to do that,” he smiled to himself as he picked up Gaeul from the floor and settled her on a chair right across Eli.

Elijah looked so at peace having dinner with him. The peace was too much for him to ruin with his announcement that he’ll be gone for almost a week. It’s not that Eli would not last a day without him—she’s made it clear that she survived 4 great years without him. What bothered him was the fact that he was the one who couldn’t bear to do it. He didn’t want to make her feel like he was leaving her again. They were just beginning to bond again, he didn’t want to ruin their sweet streak and risk being ignored once he got back.

“You’re quiet,” Eli pointed out. 

Leon still didn’t know how to tell her. He can’t say no to his parents especially if it’s company related. He is expected to step up after his dad retires, he’ll be risking slipping up and making a bad image for the board if he declines this.

“Gusto mo na bang daanan ni Monet sa shelter bukas?” He asked. 

Eli’s face lit up but it makes Leon’s stomach churn despite the phenomenal medium done steak in front of him when he realizes he’s not gonna feel that same relief from seeing Eli look so happy for a couple of days. Whipped. That’s what he is.

He shied away from allowing himself to feel that way because he was guilty that he was replacing Margot so quickly. But everyone else was right, they were already trapped in this with no way out anymore. This and nothing else. So it’s either you enjoy it or live your life miserable. Margot was well aware of that, even days before Leon found out that he’s getting married to someone else. While it may be bizarre to be able to accept that the person you loved so much is getting married to someone else, Margot was able to do it. After all, she knew this was a possibility when she got with Leon. There’s a long history of forced marriages in the family to even hope that they would be spared.

“As soon as possible sana,” she smiled at him, looking down on the steak happily as she munched on it. “Did you get her stuff na?”

“Yeah, dog food and everything else. I got her a cute matching bed with Gaeul, tignan mo mamaya.”

“You sound like a girl-dad na nahshopping spree,” Eli teased, laughing. Leon blushed a little, at the mere thought of them having actual children getting brought up.

“I am a girl-dad na nagshopping spree,” Leon quips. “What are you talking about?”

—

“Kanina ka pang parang may gusto sabihin,” Eli mentions, sitting on the counter next to the sink as she watches Leon do the dishes, Gaeul now settled in the extra rooms in her comfy little dog bed.

Leon didn’t know how to tell her that it was eating him up everytime he thought of it though it was inescapable. He should just spend as much time with her as possible right? That seemed appropriate to do.

“I was thinking that you should move to the Master’s bedroom—”

“Palit tayo ng kwarto?”

“Timang,” Leon snorted, shaking his head at Eli’s playful response. She knew what he meant though, and she’s not against it. She slept well when he was next to her even though she thought he left when she fell asleep. “Kasama ako s’yempre.”

“Gusto mo lang ako katabi eh,” Eli teased, even playfully pinching his cheek but Leon managed to get a hold of her hand before she could take it back. 

Leon hummed in agreement before kissing the back of her hand softly and placing it on his cheek carefully. The look in his eye was longing, craving to feel any sort of physical touch from Elijah herself as if he was already missing her and he hadn't even left.

“Yea,” he replied, leaning over to wrap his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder. “Gusto kitang katabi matulog.”

“Are you okay, Leon?” she asked, concern lacing the tone of her voice as she made him look up at her, eyes looking weary of why Leon seemed so bothered since he got home.

He shook his head honestly, “why?” she follows, holding him by both of his cheeks trying to pry an answer from him.

Why hasn’t he told her? Is he shy? Is he embarrassed? Or was it really just hard to admit to himself that he’s at risk of coming home to something completely different than what he left?

“Papunta kami nila Kuya sa Cebu next week,” he mumbled quietly.

“Anong problema doon?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he added, saying it truthfully. 

He was expecting her to burst out in laughter and find it funny that he’s reacting this way. He is a grown ass man afraid to miss a girl that’s not even his girlfriend his fiancée lol, it was something funny in his head but it did not seem like that in Eli’s head.

“I’m gonna be alright, Leon,” she let out a soft chuckle.

“4 days rin kasama sila Kuya Santi…” He explained.

“That’s okay. Kuya Santi is maligalig like me, you won’t miss me too much.”

“Hahalikan ba ako ni Kuya Santi, ha?” 

That threw Eli out and finally made her burst into laughter.

“Please don’t kiss my brother,” she giggled before flinging her arms on both sides of his neck to pull him closer in between her legs. “I’m here pa naman.”

Leon hummed, pushing his face dangerously close to hers before asking, “You want me to kiss you instead, ha?”

“If that means you won’t kiss other people sa Cebu, then yes.” That was a bold reply but something expected of Eli. All her generosity aside, Eli liked her favorite things to herself. She was quite territorial when it came to people.

“Not planning on it,” he replied before pressing his lips firmly on hers, mouths immediately molding into the fit of each other’s mouths like it was always made to be there. 

It was wet and hot, Eli could feel her heart pounding against her chest but for once in her life she wasn’t afraid that it was going to be a panic attack, especially when Leon’s cold hands were creeping under her pajama shirt making her gasp. Leon smirks at his plan working, taking the chance to slide his tongue between her parted lips. His brain then goes into a frenzy as her fingertips begin fiddling with the hair on the back of his head. He can’t seem to pull away even if he was slowly running out of breath. Addicted, that’s what he is.

“Kuya Santi won’t kiss you like that, no?” Eli joked when they pulled away, panting because of how long they had been kissing.

“Magtigil ka nga, hindi naman kuya mo ang gusto kong halikan,” Leon shrugged, wiping the wet parts of the side of her lips as he chuckled at Eli’s childishness.

“So, just me?”

 He knows she’s doing it on purpose but the feigned innocence in her face as she asks is admittedly working on him.

“Tara na sa taas, kuhanin mo na ang mga gamit mo sa kwarto mo doon ka sa kwarto natin,” he chuckled, grabbing her by the waist again and carrying her down the countertop.

—

Eli doesn’t recall how she got there but there she was on Leon’s bed, him already changed in his loose shirt and boxers with hands gripping firmly on her waist from under her shirt while her knees were on either side of his thighs. Their lips sealed together like every second that their lips were an inch apart is a waste of time. 

It was unusual how all of a sudden she was craving his lips like she has been starving, but it only felt right even if it’s Leon...because it’s Leon. 

Stuck in her little paradox, the other person in the equation, Leon, was slowly growing embarrassed of how hard he was growing while his hands roamed around her torso, careful not to go any higher and do something she would be uncomfortable with. He was hesitant to put her in a position she did not want to be in but it seemed like Eli felt differently, when she pulled away and asked something Leon never would’ve thought he’ll ever live long enough to hear, 

“Do you want me to take it off?” she asked, referring to her pajama shirt that was clearly restricting Leon from doing what he’s been wanting to do.

“‘Wag na kung hindi ka komportable,” Leon chuckled at her lightly, pressing a soft kiss of her cheek before she shoots her next question, which ultimately sends Leon’s brain to short circuit.

“Can I move?”

“Can you what—” but before there was a coherent thought formed in his head, Eli shifted to make herself more comfortable before pressing herself hard on him, causing friction to where he needed it most. “Shit, yes, Ellie,” he moaned before capturing her lips once again, hands finding home in her waist once again guiding her movement. “Fuck.”

Eli whines quietly next to his ear, pressing open mouthed kisses behind it as she moves faster, putting more pressure as Leon’s shameless moans fills in the room, even more so when she takes his hand, which still carefully navigated the skin on her back and waist, to her mound, allowing him to squeeze the soft skin on it, thumbing on the already hardened nipple.

“God, baby,” Leon moans, removing his free hand from her waist and finding its way to Eli’s neck to kiss her again, mumbling incoherent praises against her lips before his tongue slots between her lips once again which she willingly gives him permission to do so. “So good for me, Ellie…”

Eli’s hips began to move frantically, chasing her high. Leon practically doing the same, leisuring on the feeling of her soft mound against his hand as she grinded himself against Eli, trying to meet her movements as much as he could.

God. That really just sends Eli’s brain to go haywire too, unable to form any logical form of thought just—Leon. Leon. Leon. Leon. Leon. Leon. Leon—throwing all shame out the window as she shamelessly moaned his name over and over in between longing gasps against his lips while she grinded against his hard-on, realizing how big it was and how safe of a choice it was to not go down that route tonight.

The next thing she knew, as if there was more shame to throw out the window, she was cursing, pleading, even crying for Leon to let her come. 

Leon thought that she didn’t have to but it would be a bigger shame to tell that he wasn’t turned on by it. He loved every second of it, every word leaving her mouth.

“Go on, baby,” he hummed, carefully wiping the tears off her face before he found his hand back on her waist, guiding her to put more pressure as she moved before letting out a string of soft moans.

The mere sound of her moans was embarrassingly enough to finish too.

Shit. 

“Are you okay?” Leon hummed, holding her shivering body against his. All Elijah gave was a quiet nod as she clings to him.

He then caresses the soft hair on her head while the other rubbed circles on the expanse of her back under her shirt. “Sure? I need to hear you say it, Ellie.”

“I’m okay, Leon,” she hummed, nuzzling her face further into his neck.

“Alright, tara na maglinis,” he hummed, kissing the top of her head once again before he carried her up to the bathroom. “I’ll get you clothes, you do your thing, alright?”

Eli nodded at him, still having the same dilated eyes from earlier as Leon closed the door allowing her to clean herself up from her soiled shorts and underwear.

Fuck. That really just happened.

—

Days went by so quickly, Monet had settled in well with Gaeul and was currently being dropped by in a pet daycare to be watched over and trained in the morning when both Eli and Leon were at work. They’ve also settled in well on who picks up the dogs from daycare. To say the least, in a span of a couple of days, they have been functioning well as furparents and maybe occasionally as a proper couple as well—mostly it was making out and cuddling in the bed while they wait for Eli’s chamomile tea to cool down a bit but the rest really were just looking out for each other—which by the way was a basic thing a human would do if they live in the same roof with someone. 

It was also half because their intimate activities left Eli wondering if there really was more to their relationship long before it was a topic for thought. Leon, on the other hand, was just too focused on keeping it together before he finally leaves, making sure he doesn’t do anything that will cause a drift between them before he leaves.

“Hindi ka man lang magbibilin?” Leon playfully asks, as he leans back on the trunk of Eli’s car that brought all four of them to airport. 

“Basta umuwi ka ng buo at iisa—”

“What do you mean iisa?”

“Baka uwi ka ng may anak na—” 

“May mga anak na ako dito, bakit ako uuwi ng may ibang anak?” Leon playfully flicks her forehead as she rolled her eyes at him. 

“Buntis ka?” Yves looks at her, eyes wide in shock.

“OA,” Eli shrugged at him. “Si Monet at Gaeul ang mga anak. Mukha ba akong capable maging nanay ha?”

“Aba malay ko ba!”

Leon chuckled at their banter. As much as he had the urge to get jealous for how close they seemed, but it’s Architect Yves. He knows how much this person supported her like Santi would have when no one else could. There’s an understanding that they could only look at each other from a sibling light.

“We should go,” Leon smiled, pressing a soft kiss on Eli’s lips before pressing another on her forehead, giving it his all not to let the tears fall. 

“Oh my god, kailangan ba sa harap namin?” Santi complained, pulling Leon away from his little sister before giving her a tight hug. “Kadiri ha!”

“Ingat kayo,” Eli hummed. “Take care of each other, alright?”

“Ingat kuya,” she smiled, giving Yves and Tobi their hugs before they parted. 

The car ride home from the airport to Yang ENT. was quiet, painfully for that matter. The obvious difference of the atmosphere in her car on their way there somehow irked her, like she wasn’t used to silence anymore.

“Ba’t ganyan ang itsura mo?” Ynes asked, chuckling lightly as she went to hug Eli’s sullen figure. “Para kang pinagsakluban d’yan.”

“The office is quiet,” she pouted at her best friend. “Walang mga kuya na magaaway the whole week.”

Truth to be told, while Eli liked her silence, there was something about her brothers’ noise that comforted her. Something about hearing Leon yap about his day sounded like home. The silence now was cold and crisp, something that resembled the silence at home whenever her papa was mad at her for some reason she never really understood even at her big age now.

It’s always been her and the silence. Life out of that was greater than she ever thought she was, now home wasn’t home anymore without the joyful noise that reminded her that it is nice that she is alive.

“Hala si ate ko umiyak,” Ynes chuckles at her bestfriend, engulfing her in a tighter embrace. “Ito naman parang ‘di nag-grade two! Uuwi naman ‘yung mga ‘yon!”

“Uuwi ‘yon, ano ba itong babae na ‘to!” Ynes really tried to maake something light out of the situation but deep inside she knew that this was hard for her. She hasn’t lived in the same roof with her brother for a couple of years now, but they always saw each other at work. It wasn’t a big adjustment for her. Living with Leon now would be another conversation, because this is the first time in a couple days since they made amends that Leon would be away from her.

“Gusto ko sumama sa Cebu, babes,” she cried like a child na iniwan ng magulang. The funny thing was she never cried to her parents after being left at home—she was used to that Elizalde and Soren Yang had always been busy people, being left to caretakers and secretaries was no big deal to her. So why does that right now seem so heavy for her? 

“It’s your first time being loved like that and being left behind, ano?”

Maybe it’s the way that Ynes’ words made her think of it or the way that she was not sure why she really was acting this way, but that made her stop and look at Ynes.

It’s the first time someone that made her very loved had to leave her behind. The first time that someone wasn’t going to be constantly gonna be there for her. And it was different before when Leon left because she didn’t feel that way for him back then. She was far from mature to actually take the time to acknowledge her own feelings when all that happened but it’s different now.

“It’s okay to feel that way, babes,” Ynes smiled at her, squeezing her arm to give her reassurance. “It’s human to miss the people that you love.”

“You think I love Leon?” she asked, slightly tilting her head up to level her sight with Ynes.

“The same way he loves you, Elijah,” Ynes sighs. “Alam kong itatanggi mo nanaman kasi ayaw mong maguilty na kawawala n’yo lang ni Isaac, but Eli, life is not going to end if you hurt Isaac lalo na at hindi rin naman s’ya mabuting tao.”

click here to continue (housemates' gc)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ characters ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ previous ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ next ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[x-amount-verbs]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Oh man. I could never pick just five, tbh. Here’s some that I reread frequently though, sorted by fandom rather than ranking.

Arcane:

A Helping Hand (30/? chapters posted, silco/f!reader; occasionally smutty/explicit, but mostly heavy on the tension/slow burn) Duh! Of course I rec my longest but still unfinished multichap! A story of recovery and personal growth mixed in with some weird bdsm kink stuff? Come on, it's fun! And its reverse POVs! Can be found both here on tumblr and over on AO3.

Dead by Daylight:

Unwilling Survivor (33/? chapters posted, legion/f!OC; rated M for graphic violence, mentions of suicide, sexual themes; enemies to enemies to enemies to lovers) I fucking love my OC Sam, okay?? I love her so dearly, and this was her first debut in this universe, one which I have since written her in a LOT through RP and projects with friends. Some of my favorite writing is Sam stuff, I love my suicidal final girl and the untapped rage in her, she's fantastic. Please read this.

Oxenfree:

So It Goes (21/21 chapters, complete and posted, Jonas/Alex; rated M for themes, but no graphic content; time loop angst and warning for stepcest) Possibly the only multichap I've ever completed, thanks to Hammie as a cowriter. Loved writing Jonas for this one, with his intense guilt and strong sense of responsibility, and the delicious angst the canon setting brings. Also had so much fun making mood boards for every single chapter. Hop on over to AO3.

Holy Spirits (25/? chapters posted, Jonas/Alex bi4bi m/f alternate future fic that is so far from the source material it's practically contemporary romcom; rated M for sexual themes and some violence; annoyance to friends to Complicated) I love love love everything I ever wrote with my friend Hammie for Oxenfree, and this is no exception. So much fun to write Alex, especially with the amazingly silly banter these two get up to, highly recommend. It's over on AO3.

Original Works?:

Okay so technically this is an AU of Holy Spirits, lmao, but if you like one you'll hopefully enjoy the other! Lucky In Love (36/? chapters and still occasionally updating; bi4bi m/f reality tv romance (cameraman/contestant); rated M for sexual content; another annoyances to friends to lovers story, because that shit is my drug) Basically the same backstory as Holy Spirits, and even steals some of the OCs from that story, but instead Alex is a contestant on a dating show and Jonas is a cameraman who's growing a conscience. If you like reality tv drama of the 2010s era, this has it. Over on AO3.

[eccentric-nucleus]

so, i finally finished (posting) my huge, novel-length teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfic. i just posted the final epilogue over on ao3!

here is my director's commentary on it, if you want to read even more about it. this contains spoilers for the whole thing. maybe read the epilogue first and sit with that for a minute. also this will probably be pretty incoherent if you haven't read the whole thing. it's just a disconnected series of thoughts i have about the story, really

man, this story. this is maybe the longest thing i've ever written? like 'the new hive' and 'hell game' had more words (i think) but they were mostly a disconnected series of sex scenes with thin connective tissue between them. this is ~200k words of a single, linear, mostly-plot narrative. i'm writing scenes that aren't just about getting the two leads to fuck!! that's weird. it's definitely the most ambitious thing i've written. kind of weird that it's tmnt fanfic. that's just how it worked out, i guess.

so back in 2022 i watched the rise of the tmnt movie because people kept talking about the animation quality of the fights and that got me into a spiral of actually paying attention to the ninja turtles. i had never been into them & genuinely i think a huge part of getting into tmnt stuff was that rise actually varied the design of the turtles so that they weren't all basically identical save for color-coding. turns out visual design was the missing mystery ingredient.

also in 2022 i was burning out on writing 'goblin cave', when what i had intended to be a fun little writing exercise ended up getting algorithmically surfaced and getting me hundreds of comments on each chapter. that got a little stressful and i wasn't really enjoying that, so i stopped. but i was like, hmm you know i mostly just write weird porn but maybe i should write something a little more ambitious. with a plot, and everything. 'goblin cave' was (in my mind) all about a character who was created for violence deciding art was a much more worthwhile pursuit. but the main character of that doesn't know what art is. because it's a magical dungeon core. and i was still thinking a lot about dead zones of the imagination, by david graeber. so i was like, okay, let's do this again but in a slightly more self-authentic way and make it weird gay porn with weird animal dicks. let's give michelangelo ninjaturtle a monologue about how the powerful are utterly insulated from any consequence.

(also early on, after watching most of rottmnt, i stumbled across this blog post about the tmnt comics and the end of the world. that ended up being deeply influential on the fic too. i've been kinda in a state for the past few years and this fic is absolutely a part of me working through a lot of complicated feelings about the world and the future. lol people talk so much about people writing dark fic 'to cope' but this was pretty much the first time i've outsourced my emotional processing by having bad things happen to fictional characters.)

so uhhh where to start here. the setting of the fic is this complicated messy mashup of a half-dozen tmnt continuities. it's very rise-heavy, since... that was the only series i had watched(/read) when i had determined the major plot points, but there's a lot of bits and pieces from all over.

to roughly outline the characters here, a huge influence on mikey's personality in this is... mikey's 'dr delicate touch' persona in rottmnt. in the sense that... okay yes yes that is a kid's show and all of his dr delicate touch lines are, you know, setups and punchlines. you think he's going to be nice but actually he's mean! etc. but in-universe it's like, wait hold on a second. mikey is like the most emotionally-intelligent of the four. he absolutely knows when people are on the edge of flipping out and need a calming out to a stressful situation. and instead he freaks them out more! mikey's hobby is: being mean to his friends & family, for fun! what a fun character trait.

i was thinking about this tweet a lot, too. i read some writing advice once that people tend to make characters who are supposed to be likable too squeaky-clean. nothing but positive character traits for them! but actually every 'positive' character trait is exactly the same as a 'negative' one; it's just a matter of focus and degree. a character is light-hearted and comedic? they can never take things seriously, even when they really should. a character is willing to do anything to protect the people they love? so they're violent and threatening and scary if they happen to decide you're something that they need to protect against. etc. i was really dedicated in this to bringing out the worst characteristics of everybody's personalities.

mikey was also very deeply inspired by: all the garbage progression fantasy stuff i've been reading. i've complained about this several times on this very blog, but a constant theme in most progression fantasy is 1. the main character will constantly get more and more powerful and 2. the main character will never really have their relationship with the rest of the world changed via that power. it's just stat-ups. they just have higher stats so they're more powerful. mikey is the most powerful person on the planet and it's fucking ruining his life. he knows that there's nobody capable of actually checking his behavior, & he's in this constant state of thinking he's maybe a few bad days away from murdering half the planet and incredibly aware there's not really anything he can do about that aside from constantly worry. he's kind of an anxious mess.

mikey absolutely thinks it's more ethical to murder somebody out of the sheer glee of seeing people crushed before you than murdering somebody for something as tedious as mob orders. you're satisfying a deep, raw desire felt from the heart! that's good!

what he'd like to do, in some sense, is just hang out in his studio and chill with other artists, but he knows the world is not gonna let him do that. things will come up. a lot of his being a creepy bystander thing while people get murdered is b/c he's very much formulated his morality to be like... it is not his responsibility to fix other people's problems. other people will do what they want and that has no bearing on him. is that a pretty cowardly and self-serving morality? sure! but he was kinda designed to rule the world & his flinch away from that pretty much defines him as a character in this. that's kinda the morality he needed to end up on to convince himself not to be a genocide machine.

he's incredibly aware he could basically be a superhero, & all it would take is... giving up on all his hopes and dreams and constantly engage with his abilities. and being a superhero isn't that many steps removed from living up to his full design spec and just taking over the world and ruling as god-emperror. idk how well i hit all those notes in the actual fic, but, that's what i was going for. mikey as the narrator clearly doesn't want to talk or think about it so it's never really directly confronted.

raph is... okay so i guess a fairly common piece of fanon, for rise especially, is to characterise raph as having multiple personalities? whether that's him just having alters or him having full-blown MPD depends on the fic. my fun little nod to that is that he's kind of a disassociative mess. he has kind of failed to reconcile the disparate aspects of his personality and he switches between one of several different facades depending on the situation. also, you know. the trauma.

(i didn't really mean for it to be as such, but there is this theme in the story about names? despite everything else mikey has a crystal-clear self-conception of himself and has one name, which he gave himself. raph, who has kinda failed to build his own personality, has a collection of name other people have given him, none of which he feels actually fits him. donnie has a more fluid self-identity and also has roughly a million aliases and false identities & constantly slips in and out of character when it's convenient. leatherhead still going by the name mikey gave him goes hand-in-hand with that bit where mikey meanly thinks about how maybe leatherhead's entire self-conception is hung up on something mikey said to him once, etc. this is one of those things that i'd go back and make more present if i did go back and clean up the rough draft, b/c as it is it's there, but it doesn't really do a whole lot.)

--

this fic was inspired by... i had read a few big aus that were just like, taking the characters and loose bits of setting and going off in completely different directions. some of NeiNing's aus were a definite influence, plus like, this one au where raph is an ex-con mechanic, etc, etc. just like "i am going to play out a completely unrelated drama using turtles as the dolls". maybe most directly influential was Of Knights and Thieves, where donnie & mikey are corporate espionage hacker/thief types and raph & leo are do-gooder vigilantes. the original concept for this was much more heavily focused on the art forgery. in a very early draft the idea was leo would get involved much more actively in trying to track down the creator of the false takenobus. then i was like, "i am going to crash a completely separate story concept about the dark armor into the side of this art-forgery story". the filename for the story is still 'lol grindr hookup art thief'. that is not really where the story went.

oh man, the art stuff. i made some posts about this at the time! that are now several years old. here's one! i did end up getting a traditional woodcut printing of Tokaido 53 stations, no. 11, Hokone. in a lot of ways doing all the art research was more satisfying and fun than writing the extensive downward spiral that was the latter half of the fic. but, hey, that's life too i guess.

also raph in this is... okay, so, i don't mean this in a mean way. i really liked the fics! but cndrow has written several raph/donnie fics where raph is just like... like a repeated theme in them is raph confessing eternal love & talking about how he's like, mentally planning on them being together forever. on the first date. and sure sure everybody has different tastes; i'm absolutely sure that my interest in guys who are mean leads to some stories that are extremely offputting to some people, etc. but it's like, oh man, raph, please slow your roll a little. if somebody said they were planning our future wedding all of ten minutes into talking to me i would flee the room. & the raph in blinded by the summer sun is very much inspired by that. sadly, i never fully committed to that. originally i even had a line in chapter 9 where slash was like 'please tell me you didn't drop the 'i love you forever' on this guy already' to imply that that was, you know, a theme for raph, but i chickened out and cut it. raph as a kind of rolling series of bad relationships characterized by him falling forever in love w/ his latest crush until the relationship detonates and leaves him not really understanding how things went wrong. but i don't think that's expressed well like, at all. but that ideally should characterize a large part of why he keeps chasing after mikey even well after the point where it would be reasonable to disengage. also to convey some of the downsides of a character believing in true love. it's rough out there in the world.

also thank you tumblr user averyterrible for writing this goncharov post. that was the point in the story where i was like, actually i have been writing raph as way too much of a sad boy. if i want to play in the space of crime drama, there needs to be some crime! he's a yakuza assassin. he needs to chop off somebody's fingers with bolt cutters.

--

to me, the central question in the fic isn't really 'will the mikey/raph relationship work out' or 'will mikey succeed in his plans', it's 'why is mikey doing these things'. & i think the leatherhead chunks in chapter 23 finally give enough context to what's going on with mikey to let people answer that? like oh, mikey is a mess.

(lol the initial setup for the early chapters are supposed to give an audience response of like, "oh no, raph has some dangerous secrets" "oh no, raph is a violent yakuza murderer! i hope mikey is going to be okay interacting with raph" "...oh no, i hope raph is going to be okay interacting with mikey")

a lot of the story really is about how... mikey & raph's relationship is in a lot of ways very adolescent? they have not had a lot of prior experience with healthy relationships, and they're trying, but, uhhhhhhh. mikey likes to act like he's so cool and above-it-all and unaffected by things happening, but that's actually just b/c he doesn't really care about most things. when something happens that he genuinely doesn't like he immediately snaps and has a giant meltdown. (we see this once with raph, when mikey has a panic attack and throws up when raph blows him off wrt warning him of bishop, and once with donny about the armor, where mike immediately starts tantruming and threatening to kill himself. mikey is very bad at resolving conflict. he's kind of a brat, actually.)

like every character in this is in some way their worst self. they're all pretty awful people. but they're all also trying to... grapple with their place in the world and try to be better people. to even figure out what 'better' means. this is a story about how 'being a good person' is a constant struggle, not to 'do the right thing', but to even figure out what's 'right'. it's about picking yourself up again after a bad period and going, well, let's keep going. like mikey has a lot of traits but one that i, the author, actually think is fairly admirable is his ability to get back up and keep going after a really bad period. which is funny b/c characterwise that goes hand-in-hand with his callousness. just shrug off all the misery you caused other people, i guess! see above about positive/negative character traits.

(also uh there's another tmnt fic author whose work has a lot of... a Bad Guy is constructed/identified. then helpless children (or teens!) are rescued from him. then the bad guy is ruthlessly & violently murdered. sometimes onscreen, sometimes offscreen. and then it's nothing but chapter after chapter of people being happy and cutesy to each other. and like, i get it. but the, like, recurring theme there of the Bad Guy having done something fundamentally unforgivable that separates from all understanding & mercy, to which the only justice is a violent death, just strikes me as... simplistic. sometimes people do really awful things and part of grappling with that as an adult with an adult moral conceptualization is realizing that you gotta look past your initial reflex to punishment.

or like, mikey's whole childhood in this really fucked him up but a huge part of his identity is him having to form an identity from that. having to make the determination of which parts of him are 'him' and which parts were done to him. lol @ him aggressively and extensively rejecting everything about what draxum made him to do & then blithely being like 'we were engineered to eat humans anyway' as a defense for all the corpse-eating. mikey you just like eating people & have decided that part does align with your self-identity. mikey would really not appreciate anybody being like 'i'm sorry nobody saved you from that' b/c that (to him) would basically be the same as them saying they thought he was fundamentally, irreparably damaged & was going to be forever incapable of being anything other than what draxum made him to be. he wouldn't take it well.)

uhhh what else. i mean there's a lot. fun fact pretty much every time mikey gets mad at somebody else he's hugely projecting. even his pacifism is like... hmm maybe he should have killed draxum. a lot of his talk @ raph about splinter is secretly mikey relitigating his feelings about draxum. oh what's that mikey you think that splinter is only playing happy family b/c he's immortal and he has infinite time to spend humoring somebody's illusions but that when push comes to shove he'll drop all that? gee i wonder if that might apply to any dynamics in mikey's own life. lol at mikey being like "wow red your life is kind of a fucked-up nightmare of weird psychopaths playing like they're happy family" and then two chapters is like "hey come meet my family. we live in my genocidal dad's bombed-out lab and we're treating him like a weird racist grandpa". i kinda wanted something that would complicate mikey just being like "i am a pacifist now and i don't kill anybody"; mikey that's all well and good but like half his inner tension comes from not being sure if he should've left draxum alive. that's kinda the mirror to him debating whether or not actually killing leatherhead would've been better. (in a few years shelldon is gonna go through a period of not wanting to talk to any of them. mikey & donnie are better parents than draxum but that's such a low bar.)

(likewise at the end when mikey is like "this is raph's healthiest relationship so far!" to leo, like, this is more mikey projecting. really the raph/casey relationship was probably better for raph & casey, idk, who can say. but is mikey's relationship with raph the healthiest romantic interaction he's ever had? yes, absolutely. we don't get to see the mikey/leatherhead relationship really up-close and personal but it should be pretty clear that it was pretty awful for everybody involved. compared to that, the mikey/raph is absolutely mikey's healthiest relationship so far. just. low bars.)

lol i am a little concerned that mikey's tendency to monologue, & especially his whole political monologue near the end, will get people to think he's just acting as an author's soapbox. i mean, okay, the little author's note where i'm like "as always, mikey is a perfect role model and everybody should do what he does" was a fun little joke. but, oof, the number of fics i've read where the authors feel the need to loudly and repeatedly disclaim that This Story Contains Things The Author Does Not Condone In Real Life is pretty disheartening. way to have absolutely no faith in your audience. but likie, the part where mikey is pretty much flat-out like, "actually i think my moral framework is whatever is necessary to justify my actions" is meant to be pretty damning. maybe not of mikey specifically as a character, just of, you know. the whole world where that's a pretty common outlook among people with power.

--

lets talk about the rape. part of it is that it felt like it would be inauthentic to go through the entire story without mikey seriously violating one of raph's boundaries. part of it is that mikey here kinda has the trifecta of ASPD, ADHD, & bipolar, and the thing with that is it's very easy to just say that but a little more difficult to convey the personality traits involved. this isn't really something ever stated as such in the fic, aside from various people calling mikey crazy + raph calls him a sociopath once. it's kind of too didactic to just flatly state "and this is what's wrong with mikey!" imo. but. this is a story about violent people. imo you can't just gesture to a character with the background level of callousness for the genre and go "okay this is a clinical sign"; you kinda gotta do something more direct. 'wow mikey sure is CRAZY and WEIRD good thing it only shows itself as him being slightly mean to people'. no. mikey has done some pretty horrible things in the past and clearly isn't fully done with that.

(i did pretty much go straight down the list of symptoms there. impulsive, suicidal, aggressive, violent, risky sex, arrogant, limited empathy, no regard for other people or social norms, difficulty with relationships, arson, etc, etc, etc. but it's not like he's a 'realistic' portrayal here, since... i mean, he is a super-powered ninja. there's a level of 'superficial charm' here but we do get enough of mikey's interiority to be able to tell he's a total mess in a way that's not particularly constructed.)

also it's like. raph graphically tortures several people to death & i didn't really feel the need to disclaim that here. murder is usually seen as a lesser crime in fiction than rape. people love their violent blorbos but the second there's the implication of sexual violence people freak out. the usual line people say is that the threat of murder is a little more removed for most people than the threat of rape, which idk if i fully agree with. but part of it is also to draw a line between raph's violence and mikey's boundary violation. like mikey says, well, raph tried to non-consensually murder him a few times too.

anyway i don't think i really stuck the landing with that either, in part b/c raph's response to it. he's a little too pathetically accepting of things at the end instead of being angry + violent. that could use a rewrite or two.

--

honestly i'm kinda sick of this story now? which sucks a little, since i kept realizing things about the story all the way up to the very last moment of editing. if i had waited to post any of this until i was done with the first draft... well, it'd be a very different story if i went back and turned this rough draft into something more complete. i never really did manage to hit the character beats with raph i was hoping to. oh well. like, i still like it. but i can definitely see all of its weak points. i guess that's just part of the process of writing. it'd be worse if you wrote a giant novel and came out on the other side not more aware of your failings as an author.

i feel like raph isn't super well-realized in terms of character motivations. or... his relationships aren't shaded in as well as they could be. if i were redoing this whole thing i'd definitely include some chunks of raph pov just to lay out more concretely what he's doing & what his life is like when he's not in the same scene as mikey. i kinda included that raph+donny conversation at the very end just for jokes, but actually ending every chapter with a little section of non-mikey pov would've helped ground a lot of the characters. raph isn't super well-developed and leo is pretty much incoherent absent external familiarity with his character's deal. they're not conveyed super well, in part because, well, any time mikey is onscreen everybody is having to deal with mikey. it's a problem.

but something that absolutely could have worked as a secondary narrative to the story is the whole thing with raph working w/ the oroku. that was a bit of a late addition to the story. it's meant as a reference to, you know, all the times raphael ends up being compared to/assuming the mantle of the shredder in the comics. but as it is since we don't get any real looks into exactly what's going on in yakuza town when mikey's not around none of that got developed very well, imo.

--

it was very important to me that mikey not learn any lesson here. where things are at in the end are pretty much the exact same as where they were in the beginning. the bit in the pizza scene where he's like 'you guys get to live and i get a boyfriend' is very accurate. literally the only change in mikey's life through this entire thing is that at the end he is in a relationship w/ a guy who he can tell some of what his life is like to. not that it's a super healthy relationship, but it is there.

well, that, and also now he's maybe out of time. (uh, so the laughter at the very end of the epilogue is mikey realizing he's out of time. the whole epilogue really is about how he's got all these conflicting tensions of who-knows-what in his life, & then right in the middle of the tension it's like, whoops, the utrom aren't coming in 10 years or 20 years, they're coming now. and in a week you're gonna be getting some really pointed questions about how you know the utrom envoy. and in a few years, well, there's gonna be some planetary evacuation) like the whole story is about... anxiety. mikey feeling the weight of the future on him in every moment. actually seeing things collapse would be a relief; you'd get the release of all the potentiality collapsing into an actual problem. the moral of the story is you get what you get and in the end all mikey's actions, good or bad or otherwise, have bought him is nine more months of ignoring his problems.

anyway sorry to all the tmnt fans who were expecting a happy cheerful mikey/raph story. this is actually about the fundamental injustice of existence. whoops!

[desceros]

Just curious since you write alot of very long one shots. What do you consider a long fic because I remember reading Euclidean line for the first time without checking how long it was because I was looking for a bed time story and wanted to read a oneshot so I could get to sleep quickly. And I end up finishing the fic 2 hours later because I couldn't stop reading it. And I remember thinking, "THAT WAS A ONESHOT???" By the end because I'm used to oneshots being like 1k-10k words.

first of all, oh my god, i'm so sorry scream. this keeps happening to people

soooo. for me i have a couple of different categories of fics that i keep in mind when i go to work on something, and i have a different answer for each of them.

very short one shots - one scene i want to get out of my head. think this mikey fic or this idw donnie fic. these are usually between 1-5k, which for me feels very very short. i don't write a lot of them, because part of what i enjoy writing the most is the progression that happens over time and that's not really... possible at this length. properly, to me. these feel long to me when they start bleeding into... ->

short one shots - think the donnie sex pollen fic, the donnie camping fic, or the blurple villain au fic here. these are 5-20k, which still feels pretty short to me. it's enough for one "proper" scene, or a few short scenes. and these start feeling long when they bleed into... ->

proper one-shots - a la leo wants a baby and of course the aforementioned euclidean line. these are anything 20k+ that are contained in one single chapter. the sweet spot for me is around 30k; that's when things start feeling like i can put enough flavor without dragging an idea out beyond its utility, though sometimes, that idea does carry it further than that. a one-shot starts feeling "long" probably when i hit the 40k mark. that's when i reassess if it should actually be a proper chapter fic, or if it functions better as a one-shot. for euclidean line, because the theme of that fic was the contiguous floaty feeling you get when you're lost in something you love, it felt inappropriate to me to break that into chapters, which are very disruptive to the flow of reading. as you've noted, these are my favorite things to write!

chaptered fics - just symphony........ for now. these vary widely to me. (well. i guess technically we do it together is a chaptered fic... but really it was originally conceptualized as a one-shot; i wrote it as such, and split it up later. i was experimenting with breaking my one-shots into shorter chapters, and i really don't like it. so. yeah. desceros lore for you.) as for these... i think they feel "long" to me when i get about to the 130-150k mark. that's when i see how long it takes me to scroll through the document to find little details and i'm like jesus christ this is absurd. most of my chaptered fics finish out i think somewhere around the 150-200k mark, and the longest thing i've ever finished was right at 300k. just to put it into context i suppose!

[coraniaid]

For the fic ask game, 5, 10, 20 please!

Fanfiction author ask game

5) The fic you’re most proud of writing?

I think the answer has to be Coexist, my season 3 rewrite.

It was the first fic I started writing in the Buffy fandom; it's the (completed) fic that took me the longest to finish [the first chapter was posted in February 2021, but I'd been planning it and drafting it for a while before then, and the last chapter wasn't posted until April 2023]; it's (by some distance) the longest single fic I've written [it's a bit over a quarter of a million words long].

And, now that I've had some time to think about it, I think it holds up pretty well? There are certainly a few sections I'd be tempted to rewrite slightly, and probably some bits which I should have just edited away, and (because I hadn't quite planned things out in as much detail as I thought I had) there's a few moments where the wider timeline doesn't quite work [secondary characters will say things that are meant to be cryptic references to events that I later decided hadn't happened yet], but overall I think I did a pretty good job capturing the story I'd been daydreaming about for a while. I'm still really pleased with the chapters The Price, Reactions and Undertow in particular, and I think the overall story is surprisingly coherent, both structurally and thematically, for something I spent more than two years writing.

10) Best/funniest comment you’ve ever gotten on a fic?

It still kind of amazes me whenever I get ... well, any comments at all, really, but especially comments that take the story I've written seriously as something worth engaging with and analyzing? I'm especially grateful to anybody whose leaves detailed comments or reviews on each chapter as they go, or who leave additional comments to point out things they noticed or enjoyed on a reread (not naming any names but you know who you are). Not to be sappy, but those are the types of comments that I go back and reread when I'm struggling with writing something new and trying to motivate myself to finish a difficult section.

Funniest comments, in hindsight, are the reactions to ... well, there is a certain chapter about a third of the way into Coexist where a Thing happens. I remember being really nervous about posting that one, and I still feel a little guilty if anyone really did stop reading at that point, but looking back the reactions (which included repeated variants on things like "damn" and "what the fuck?" and "I'm so angry right now" and "... ow :(" and "this is some real game of thrones shit") are exactly what I was going for.

20) Hardest character to write/get the characterization correct for?

I think Jenny Calendar is basically impossible to write 'correctly' because she just doesn't have a consistent characterisation in canon (is she a capable practicing technopagan who has a perspective on the supernatural that challenges Giles' own assumptions, or is she Giles' cool teacher girlfriend who helps with research in the library but is hurt and betrayed when the magical side of Giles' past endagers her safety, or is she a walking racist stereotype who [sort-of, somehow] betrayed Giles and Buffy [in ways that never quite make sense] and who has the bad luck to be written by a group of writers who ... well, let's just say that Angel doesn't ever attribute his soul to a Romani curse).

I don't think you can really reconcile those three contrasting versions of the character -- at least not in a way that I personally find satisfying -- so you just have to pick one to be the 'real' version and gloss over the other stuff as best you can. (And I think my summary above makes it clear which version of Jenny Calendar I like.)

[thesandsofelsweyr]

HOLLOWED OUT

《 READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

When Jason saw that photo of Batman and his new Robin, the thin cord of hope holding him together had snapped and he had broken into a million pieces. No one was coming for him. Not one single person on the planet cared whether he lived or died, or how much he suffered, or how loud he screamed. No one except the Clown. He was Joker’s now, and he would say or do anything to get a reprieve from the torment and the pain, even if it meant letting himself be reduced to something less than human.

《RATING》 🔞 Mature 《WORDS》 15,609 《CHAPTERS》 6/6

《CHARACTERS》 Jason Todd/Robin, Joker, Original Male Character(s), Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Dick Grayson (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned), Catherine Todd (mentioned), Willis Todd (mentioned)

《TROPES》 Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Whump, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

《WARNINGS》 Dehumanization, Bathing/Washing, Master/Pet, Collars, Ownership, Brainwashing, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Touching, Torture, Mindfuck, Scars, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Loathing, Past Child Abuse, Daddy Issues, Forced Nudity, Swearing

《SERIES》 Part 4 of My Arkhamverse, Part 4 of Ruined

《NOTES》

This fic is my pride & joy! It was the first thing I published after a 5+ year hiatus, and the longest story I've ever written by far!

This fic is also dark so be aware of the tags (especially the DD:DNE tag)

My Arkhamverse canon is a mix of game canon and Arkham Knight: Genesis canon. I pick and choose what I like best 😉

If you enjoy the read please consider kudosing, commenting, and reblogging ❤️

《 READ ON AO3 》 (excerpt below the cut)

Jason let his heavy head sag between his shoulders as he was dragged down the long hallway. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. The strain on his upper body reignited dull pain in his shoulders, pain that still lingered from the last time he was strung up like a slab of raw meat. The usual two orderlies, who Joker called “Left” and “Right” to amuse himself and confuse the hell out of everyone else, each grasped a bone-thin arm, showing no more concern for him than they would have for a sack of dirt. He didn’t have the strength to fight the men even if he wanted to, which he did not. Fighting was a punishable offense—he’d learned that long ago—and he would do anything to avoid a punishment. Yeah, the Clown still abused him whenever he felt like it, but punishment was a different experience entirely, the kind that lasted for hours and left him wishing for death. Just the thought of the word alone made him want to curl up and die.

We passed the torture chamber already, he reassured himself, trying not to let the fear take over and start pleading for mercy like the coward he was. They’re taking me somewhere else, someplace new. 

For Jason it was a torture chamber, but really it was another abandoned office in this buried wing of Arkham Asylum where Joker kept all the toys he used to make him squeal. He was almost always punished in that room: tied to a chair, dangling from a meat hook, or, especially when guests paid him a visit, left free to crawl into a corner and contemplate how helpless he was even without any restraints. 

He only punishes me when I’m bad…

He wracked his weary mind for anything he might have done to piss the Clown off lately. Not that the Clown needed to be pissed off to make him regret ever putting on that red suit. Whacking him with a crowbar was probably part of the psycho’s self-care routine. But a punishable offense? He couldn’t think of anything. Joker was usually fair when it came to punishing him. He only hurts me like that when I deserve it, and he had been on his very best behavior. At least he hoped he had. He was so exhausted it was hard to keep track of what he had or hadn’t done.

It seemed as if a lot of time had passed since his last punishment, but he had no real concept of time in this pit. Well, not since the first six months of his imprisonment, back when he thought someone might actually give a damn that he was missing. He’d tried to keep track of the days then, but after Joker showed him that photo he decided there was no point anymore.

In those early days—back when he was nothing but bad—he would fight back. He broke the wrist of one of the guest torturers, bit a guard’s ear off, even knocked a tooth out of the Clown’s stupid grin. He also tried to escape at least once a month. The guards or orderlies or the Clown himself (armed with that goddamned crowbar) would drag him back and beat him within an inch of his life. But as soon as he could stand up again he was running—or limping more likely—toward that salvation that was a concrete staircase leading up to a makeshift trap door leading out to freedom. Even then Joker made sure his ankle stayed broken, but he had way more tolerance for pain when he thought Batman was coming to beat the shit out of the Clown and his goons and take him home. Hope will do that to you.

He was a good boy now though, as docile as a whipped dog—relentless suffering for nearly a year of his life made certain of that. Joker taught him that it was easier to just submit, to obey; that life was better as a broken boy than it was as a bad boy. He no longer wished to escape. Where would he go? He had no home, no one waiting for him. At least here in this dungeon someone actually cared about him, in his sick, twisted, fucked-up sort of way. And then there was the warning of what would happen to him if he ever tried to run again. Oh God… Fear coiled like a snake around his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter as he struggled to push the memory of that terrible threat away, to push back the panic that crept in. I learned my lesson, he reminded himself as he fought for a breath. That will only happen to me if I disobey…

His mind was mercifully wrenched back to the present when the orderlies suddenly turned, pulling his limp body into an unfamiliar room and dropping him to the cold tile floor. His heart started to slow as the pain in his shoulders receded and he took in his new surroundings. The small, musty room looked like it might have been a break room or a kitchen. There was a sink, a fridge, a microwave, an empty water cooler, some cabinets—all blanketed in a thin layer of dust. In the center of the room sat a square table with four metal chairs, and beside it stood the Clown. His heart sank. Joker was grinning at him as ever, his feverish green eyes glittering with excitement for whatever sadistic cruelties he was about to dish out. The sight of the man made him want to puke.

But he couldn’t puke right now, not when Joker expected him in position. With a soft groan he slowly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, ignoring the protests from cracked bones and torn muscles. His bruised knees ached from crawling on the hard floor for the past weeks (months? years??). Since he’d been stripped of his armor Joker only allowed him to crawl; never walk, never stand. He kept his head bowed low while he waited for a command to obey. 

The uneasy silence was soon filled by the sound of a metal chair scraping against the tile as it was pulled from beneath the table. He shivered as all-too-familiar dread and despair settled over him. It was about to start again.

“Come. Sit,” Joker said in a lilting voice that suggested this was a friendly request, but Jason knew better.

Without hesitation he crawled over to where Joker was standing with his hands resting on the chair back. He gripped the chair and used it as leverage to pull his trembling, broken body off the floor. Gingerly, he slid into the chair, and winced as his ass and thighs—still bruised from the wooden paddle—came in contact with the hard plastic seat. My body still hasn’t recovered from my last punishment, he thought miserably. It was hard for him to believe that this same body was running around Gotham, brawling with its colorful lineup of thugs only months ago. Now he could barely stand on his own, much less run. Even the slightest of movements awakened some awful pain from a previous beating. He was only 16 yet he felt like he was 60.

16… He was only weeks away from getting his license when he fell into this shithole. Two more years and he would’ve had his high school diploma, maybe even sooner. I wanted to go to college. I was gonna try for an Ivy. A ‘fuck you’ to Willis for giving him hell for opening a book more than once in his life. I’ll never read another book. That realization was a particularly brutal gut-punch. Books were always his escape, from his shitty home life when his sperm donor was still breathing, or when he was feeling like he, a corner boy from Crime Alley, had no business living in a billionaire’s mansion. He remembered when he first arrived at that billionaire’s mansion how excited he was when he saw the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves Alfred built for him in his new bedroom, and the hundreds of books that Bruce had already filled them with. He also remembered the pack of Marlboros he had stashed behind his (Bruce’s) first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice. This hell would be more bearable with a paperback and a cigarette. He would never experience either of those things again though. He would never see his bedroom again… or Alfred… or Bruce. He bit back tears. Willis was probably laughing his ass off in hell right now. He always said I was a loser, that I’d never amount to anything. Looks like the fuckhead was right in the end.

Read the rest on AO3→

[midnightcreator12]

Hi there! I just got into your au, and usually I really, really genuinely do not like oc's that are in canon. And it always takes me so many tries to get into it because it just seems so fun, however there's smth about it that I just never like and nothing ever works out? Came across your au, read first chapter and I was already in it. Read everything in one night, EXACTLY my cup of tea and I just don't understand? You added something, I don't exactly know what but I sure am loving it!

And the one-shots are my second favourite part! Nice to read, have a fun adventure in it (or gut-wrenching angst) and it's just so well written, having zero problems with following along. On the last chapter, in the comment section, you mentioned that you were gonna do a one-shot next. So if I may, could we get a small preview? Nothing big and if you don't want to or it's meant to be more surprise-like then, no need, no pressure!

Have a great day and night, drink some water and get plenty of rest, byeee!!

Happy you like my AU, fic and Chula!

I don't think I added anything so much as...took something away. See, what a lot of people do with OC insert fics is that they essicially make their OC the main character. There is nothing wrong with that, of course, but the issue is that you're going to have a lot of people not want to read it within a few paragraph.

Because, simply put, we read fanfiction to read about an established cast and world. Even if a fic isn't focused on the main characters we still see that main cast as a large part of the plot and, thus, if a fic is focused on a minor character, it's like watching a sidekicks filler episode. It's why I only have 4 out of 54 chapter from Chula POV in the main story of Hunter and Turtles. I wanted to keep her as a side character so I could keep the feeling of the fic being like another season from the show....but with more bloodshed and angst exploration.

That isn't a hard rule, of course. The One-Shot Series starts with a Chula POV chapter and most of those one-shots are from her POV but I always intended that one to be mostly for me to write whatever I wanted and to roll with it (notice the number of non-canon shots in that). And I wrote my Mutant Mayhem fic from an OC's POV because I tried with a few other perspective and his was the best choice. Even then, I tried to keep him as an outsider to the main cast instead of front loading the fic with his life story or something like that.

As for the One-Shot thing. I want to do some Canon One-Shots with Leo and Chula before I start posting the third Arc for the series. Mostly because Arc Three is going to be....quite a shift and there are some one-shots that a few readers have been excited to see. It's a lot easier to crank out some short, single chapter stories when I don't have to juggle all the heavy main plot stuff at the same time.

And since you've left such a wonderful ask in my Inbox....yeah, I can do a lil preview for one of the one-shots under construction.

Warning; this preview is not edited yet so the sentence structure, spelling and grammar may be a little wack.

You have an awesome day/night as well! And remeber to sleep when binge reading fanfiction! And enjoy!

Chula had been gone too long.

The thought had flitted through his a few times over that last couple of hours but when the sun started to go down, it became a mantra.

When they landed on this planet, Chula had passively mention that she was going to find some work for a few extra cdit while the ship refueled and cooled down. And Leo hadn’t bat an eye at that because Chula did that a lot, ventured onto planets for some day-labor for some extra cash in her pocket.

Leo didn’t mind staying on the ship to wait for her to come back….and since she hadn’t called him out for occasionally sneaking off she didn’t know he’d sometimes explore a little.

But she didn’t ever stay gone the entire day. The longest she’d ever been gone was nine hours and even that time she’d stomped into the ship grumbling about contractors underselling the job to try and give her less money.

But it had been easily past that at this point and Leo was worried. And she wasn’t answering her comm. Either. Sure, she didn’t always have time or signal but Leo was pretty sure she’d find a way to reassure him if he tried to call ten times.

But he hadn’t heard a peep.

So he grabbed his hood, opened a picture of Chula on his tablet and ventured into the settlement.

[avelera]

for the fic writer ask thingy, 3 and 18?

also, 19 but only if you really really wanna, no pressure?

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

It's often the one I've just finished but at the moment, I'm quite fond of "Giving Sanctuary" since it's recently complete and the longest thing I've ever written! I also really enjoyed writing "Banana Daiquiris" and have flirted with writing a second chapter, but that one's so dependent on cracking myself up with Dreamling/Retired-Dream humor that I don't really sit down to write I just sort of let it go at its own pace as ideas occur to me.

18 . What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Oftentimes my favorite lines are ones that my readers enjoy. I put a LOT of thought into almost every line but I don't fall in *love* with a line until a reader tells me it was meaningful for them too. I probably have at least one favorite line per chapter in Giving Sanctuary but...

Well, if I'm going to be particularly evil, I mentioned in ch. 6 that Robyn's chapter made me cry while writing it. But this is the line where I had to pause writing because I was crying so hard:

"Robyn leaned down and kissed the top of Hob’s head, the moment overlaid with another memory: Robyn as a toddler kissing a bump on Hob’s head, All better. And it was Robyn as a young man, laughing at how his father was now shorter than him, kissing the top of his head to demonstrate, See? Suppose that makes me the man of the house now."

The "All better." is what killed me. Because toddlers can be so sweet with how they try to kiss a cut or a bruise better, when they try to start taking care of others in return. And I just imagined Hob raising his son and something silly happening, bumping his head somehow, maybe while playing with his son, and baby Robyn trying to kiss his immortal father better, and then what it would be like to watch that baby grow up and then to lose him... I don't have children but the devastation of that thought of raising a child only to lose them as an adult but still far too soon just gutted me. Giving Sanctuary the story is so based in the longterm pain Hob and Dream are suffering from losing their children, even decades or millennia after they died, so it was really important not just to show that pain but show it well enough to experience it for the premise to fully work that for any flaws they might have as parents (on Dream's part) or as people (on Hob's part) and no matter how different Hob and Dream are as people from each other, they are both laid low by this particular pain such that it bridges the gap between them.

Also I'm just a complete sucker for characters needing to kiss a loved one goodbye forever. Guts me every single time. Nevertheless, even I was surprised to start crying while I wrote something. That was new.

19. And here's a cheeky little glimpse of "Keeping Sanctuary" ;3

Hob swore under his breath and wrestled with the button on his shirt cuff. His books and papers lay in neat stacks before him on his desk, the larger folio finely bound (and he would know), the single hand-written page tucked away within the cover. The morning light of late spring streamed through the diamond-patterned windows of the Manor House, promising a warm and relatively cloudless day, for England. 

Speaking of the house…

“Manny, could you be a mate and help me with this, please?” Hob sighed and held out his right hand with the trailing sleeve. “I swear the buttons get smaller every year.” 

It was a testament to the year he’d spent living at the borders of Dream’s kingdom and all its accompanying wonders that Hob no longer jumped out of his skin whenever one of his eldritch servants or, in this case, the spirit of the Manor House himself who was technically Hob’s servant, appeared out of thin air. 

“I’ve no idea why you’ve worked yourself into such a state this morning, Robert. You judge yourself far more harshly than Lord Morpheus ever would,” the Manor House, or Manny as Hob had begun to call the House originally as a joke, which unfortunately had stuck.